


His Guardian Angel

by LondonGypsy



Series: His Guardian Angel [1]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: AU, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Guardian Angel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexy Times, Telepathic Bond, Wingfic, Wings, a teeny tiny bit of angst, baby talk, because lets face it - BC needs one, modernized, mythical being
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict and Esme unites more than one would think.<br/>They share a bond that goes beyond normal lovers.<br/>This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here's another of my crazy stories and once again I have no bloody clue where it came from.  
> I just had that thought in my head and the Muse jumped to it and ran... she's still running so prepare for a long ride.  
> The timeline is a bit messed up, needed to tweak recent events a little but it starts at the Sydney Convention and goes from there.  
> Also, threw in a few not so recent events, see if you can spot them. 
> 
> This is a WIP and I try to update weekly but don't hold me to that, I'm still figuring out their entire story. 
> 
> As always a huge Thank You to my darling Barawen for Britpick and Beta'ing!  
> Any remaining mistakes are mine.

She is curled up in a chair to the side of the big table, her unwavering eyes on Benedict's tall figure, his head bent over the table, his elegant fingers scribbling ceaselessly. 

He's tired, she can see it in his slumped shoulders and the deep lines around his eyes, feels the exhaustion emit from him in slow waves. 

But he keeps going, smiling when a new item is pushed in his line of sight, another scribble on a picture, a DVD box, a drawing. 

A quick glance up, a brief smile, making hearts jump and eliciting sighs and soft squees. 

She shifts in her seat, and it catches his attention. 

He looks up, looks over. His eyes, blue and very bright, find hers. 

She holds his gaze, a tiny smile lingering on her lips. 

His posture changes: his back straightens, the lines around his mouth vanish and his smile becomes easier. 

"Almost there," she mouths, knowing full well he understands even though he can't hear the words. 

He nods, acknowledging it and turns his attention back to the person in front of him, new energy coursing through his body. 

Her eyes stay on him for another moment, making sure he's doing okay before she stands. Stretching she hears the kinks in her back pop. She sighs happily. 

Spending hours in a seat is not in her nature. 

She lets her gaze roam over the slowly moving queue. 

Not long now; she can already see the end of it. 

Half an hour perhaps. 

He will manage. 

The talk afterwards will be better. He likes those - there he can interact like he wants to. 

He's still a bit uncomfortable but he's getting better and has come to enjoy it after the initial shyness. 

She smiles. 

His answering smile warms her heart. 

Catching his eyes as he looks up once more, she whispers: 

"I'll be right back." 

His eyes narrow a fraction but he nods, not even pausing in his writing. 

He doesn't like it when she's not around but he's in good hands. 

Karon's watching over him like a hawk, making sure he's got what he needs. 

Catching the woman's eyes, she motions to the untouched water bottle next to him. 

Karon frowns, leaning forward and pushes the bottle next to his free hand. 

He automatically takes it, drinking a sip, setting it down again. 

Karon rolls her eyes and shrugs, looking up and both women shake their heads in unison.

It has to do for now.

She turns and is immediately surrounded by people, letting herself be lead by the crowd around her, with no particular destination. 

The air's thrumming with anticipation, almost palpable and it makes her heart light with joy. 

Not everyone is here solely for him and yet it feels like it. 

She's so proud of him, having conquered their hearts in a storm. 

Catching fragments of conversations she wanders around, her step easy and after a few minutes she notices that she's humming under her breath. 

It's the song he played last night in his room. 

She's still getting used to his taste in music; she’s never experienced such an eclectic variation of songs and it still surprises her. 

It's been a while since anyone could surprise her. 

But he's different.  

Her heart jumps a little as she thinks back to their first meeting. 

Utterly extraordinary. 

Just like the man himself. 

"Esme." 

His deep baritone sends a warm tremble down her spine. 

"Yes?" 

"I'm done here. Heading over to the auditorium now." 

"Okay." 

He hesitates.

Only the fracture of a second but she knows exactly why. 

Warmth fills her entire body - he wants to be alone with her. Even if it's only for a few precious seconds. 

"Green room." 

The relief surging through his body is almost painful and makes her knees weak. 

"Give me five minutes," she murmurs a bit too loudly. 

"Pardon?" 

Three women close by tear her out of her conversation, eyeing her suspiciously. 

A joyful giggle bubbles up as she looks at them.

"Sorry ladies, talking to myself," Esme smiles at them, hearing Benedict's low chuckle in her head. 

"Stop it," she sends back, turning towards him. 

He's still at the signing table, not even looking in her direction but she can read his amusement in his body language.

She narrows her eyes, willing him to look up. And of course he does, his clear eyes spanning the entirety of the room, finding her gaze, locking with it. 

"Sorry, only trying to amuse myself," he says, eyes twinkling, his lips stretched into a soft smile but otherwise not moving. 

"You're a bad man," she murmurs, her own lips twitching. She doesn't even try to suppress the smile at the thoughts flickering through his mind. 

"Nobody will even think that. Everybody here's crazy today," she replies to the fleeting images of her in a straight jacket, being pulled away, "I'm just one of them." 

His shoulders quiver with suppressed chuckles now as he collects his phone and the water bottle. 

"If you say so." 

Still softly snickering he nods towards the staff at the table before he follows Karon to a near-by door, leading to the Green Room. 

"You coming?" he asks, suddenly sounding wistful. 

"On my way." 

He tries to blanket the sharp strain of pressure leaving his body but of course she feels it. 

She watches him vanish through the door before she makes her way over to another door. 

No need to flaunt the fact that she's allowed in there. 

The staff knows her and nods friendly as she slips through the door. 

Silence surrounds her as it clicks closed and for a moment she leans against the cool wood, relishing the quietness. 

It's getting easier but she's still getting too many thoughts from the people around her at these big gatherings. Sometimes concentrating on him helps, but often there's just too many excited minds around her. 

"Hey." 

She looks up. 

Benedict leans against the window, the bright sunlight streaming inside lets gold and copper reflexes dance over his hair. He's calm now, the slight tension always filling him during autograph sessions gone. 

"Hey. Where's Karon?" 

"Making a call." 

"Ah." 

His intense eyes are burning into hers and she can feel his need. 

The gently simmering flame in her stomach suddenly turns into a hotly raging storm, filling her veins with liquid fire. 

He feels it too because his lids flutter closed for a second, his hands curling into tight fists. 

"Come here," he whispers, his low voice echoing dark in her ears. 

Two steps and they're in each others arms, hands clinging to one another, their bodies pressing hard against the other one. 

He smells heavenly of coffee and smoke and Benedict, and she buries her nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. 

It makes him shiver and his arms tighten around her. 

"Please tell me that was the last," he murmurs into her hair.

She sighs, shaking her head. 

"Just one more. Tomorrow." 

He curses under his breath. 

"Two weeks," she reminds him and he relaxes again. 

"Two weeks," he mutters, drawing back so he can look at her. 

"Just you and me, yes?" 

She nods, pushing a hand into his hair. 

"Just you and me." 

"Thank goodness," he breathes as he leans down, his breath ghosting warm over her face. 

Their lips meet and it's only the two of them now. 

A careful kiss, gentle despite the longing they both feel; they have time for more later. Right now it's only an assurance, a reminder of what awaits them when the day's finally over and they're alone. 

Benedict's heart is beating loudly in her ears and he feels her pulse, hammering wildly in his palms. 

If they could they would melt into each other, become one, two souls in one body - as it should be. 

His long fingers card slowly through her flaming hair, chasing a soft spark down her spine. His lips move warm and firm against hers, his eyes are closed. 

A quiet sigh and her mouth opens, welcoming his searching tongue, curling eagerly around hers. 

It's slow and deep, slick and hot. It's perfect and when they part both are a bit out of breath. 

"God, I needed this," he whispers against her mouth, making her bite gently at his full lower lip. 

She hums in response; she did too even though she didn't realise it. 

Her mind's blessedly blank, his strong hands on her back grounding her more than the exercises can do. 

"Benedict, it's time." 

Karon's calm voice floats into their consciousness and he looks over Esme's shoulder, nods. 

"Okay." 

Resting his forehead against hers, they breathe each other in. 

"One more hour," he whispers, his voice rumbling through his chest like thunder. 

He pulls back, a mesmerising smile on his reddened lips. 

"Go," she urges even though it's hard. 

"Will you be there?" 

She pushes his hair back, the coarse strands tickling her oversensitive fingertips. 

"Do you want me to?" 

She knows the answer even before he says it. 

He always wants it. 

"Of course." 

He needs her to anchor him in those first few minutes when he walks up on the stage, help him to face all those strangers with a clear mind. 

Her touch lingers on his face for another heartbeat before she lets go. 

Without saying another word he leaves the room, his thoughts on the people outside now. 

Silently she follows him, slips out through another door and sneaks up into the audience, finding an empty spot far in the back. 

He's still a bit nervous but of course he's perfect in hiding it.

She still feels it and tries to counter it - as always he smiles to himself as he comes out, his tense body relaxing into her warmth.

She stays with him for a few more minutes, making sure he's comfortable before she draws back, leaving him to it.

He's talking a mile a minute, his thoughts all over the place, giggling at himself for being so easily thrown off track. 

And yet, it's one of the few times he can let go without being vulnerable. 

It's the closest his fans get to seeing the real Benedict. 

Carefully Esme opens her mind, stretching out towards the people around her. 

The pure adoration and the deep devotion towards the man on that stage almost takes her breath away and quickly she retreats. 

It's overwhelming in its power and yet it fills her heart with joy. 

Letting her eyes roam over the place she only sees smiling faces, happiness is coming off every single person in thick, heavy waves. 

Very cautiously she centres it and directs a fraction of the unadulterated bliss towards Benedict, making sure it comes in calm waves to not overwhelm him.

And yet he gasps in shock and he freezes midword, his eyes going wide. 

"Shit," Esme mutters to herself, instantly pulling back, replacing it with only her feelings for him. 

A heartbreaking smile tugs on the corners of his mouth as he tries to regain breath again. He runs a shaky hand through his hair before he resumes his train of thought and carries on. 

Esme sends an apology as he stops for a moment, earning herself a mental scowl. 

"Don't be silly." 

"Just wanted to show you how much they love you." 

"I figured. Little warning next time?" 

"Obviously. Sorry." 

He glances over to her, only a fleeting moment but it assures her that he's fine. 

Exhaling she leans back, closing her eyes. 

For a split second she sees herself through his eyes: a tall red haired woman with a little frown on her forehead, a pair of shimmering green wings spread widely over her back, the ends fluttering softly in the draught of the air conditioning. 

Her lids fly open, meeting his blue gaze. He grins. 

Rolling her eyes at him, she smirks back, folding her wings against her back, hiding them from his view. 

Although he's the only one who can see them, it distracts him and that's the last thing she wants. 

For now, his attention has to be on the audience, not on her. 

"Pity," she hears him say as he tears his gaze away from her, concentrating on the people in front of him. 

"Later," she hums gently, leaning back into her seat, removing herself from his consciousness.  

One last warm mental caress on her cheek before he lets her go, forgetting her existence for the time being. 

Sighing contently she just watches, lets his deep voice lull her in, his graceful motions hypnotising and enchanting, and not only to her. 

She can watch him talk all day.

His hands never stand still. His elegant fingers spinning tales out of the blue, his delicate wrists seemingly too small to support such strong hands and yet they can, helping to tell so many stories.

Sometimes she wished everybody could see it, could see the passion in his heart, hear the music behind his plain words, feel the utter joy he conveys with his body. 

Witness the beauty of his soul. 

Then again: that's only for her to have. 

She listens, slowly drifting into that space between wakefulness and dreams, the all surrounding love enveloping her, keeping her safe and warm. 

*

"Esme." 

She frowns; that voice doesn't belong in her head. 

Blinking her eyes open, she instantly realizes that the auditorium is empty. 

Karon's smiling down at her. 

"You fell asleep," she says, trying to hide the amusement in her voice. 

"I...wow, that's a first," Esme answers, sitting up. 

"You've had a long day." 

"Not as long as his." 

"You've been up just as long as he has. Come, he's waiting for you, and starving. I've arranged dinner." 

Esme stretches and stands, swaying a bit but Karon's cool hand steadies her. 

"On second thought...go to your room, I'll have dinner sent up to you two." 

"You're a saint, Karon." 

"Remind him of that the next time I have to drag him to the airport in the middle of the night. Off you go." 

Esme hugs the other woman before she quickly makes her way out of the auditorium and through the energy fuelled people outside, towards the elevators. 

Nobody besides a handful people know that Benedict is even staying at this very hotel; the fans would completely lose it. But it was the only option - every other hotel in the proximity was booked out. 

Security leads him out of the building after his day is done but only to drive him back through the basement car park, sneak him upstairs into his room through the supply lift. 

Esme doesn't have to: as far as the other fans go, she's staying here for the convention like everybody else. 

Of course people have seen her linger at the photograph session and by the autograph table, have seen her talk to Karon but they probably assume she's staff. Naturally she's heard the whispers behind her back, even felt some harsh envy towards her person. 

Normally people quickly forget about her anyway, her presence oddly fleeting and hazy in people's minds.  

Sometimes though, she needs to help it along. Only a little. 

Usually she doesn't have to but every now and then the hatred she encounters is intense, too intense for her own - or even Benedict's - safety. 

Then she channels the affection from the rest of them, directs it towards the hate. It always works. 

Waiting for the lift to arrive at her floor, she ponders this wondrous phenomenon. 

Fan love is a strange concept. The deep affection for someone they don't even know baffles her. They have no idea how the real Benedict is, don't know what kind of person he is when he's alone or with friends and yet they worship him without ever doubting him. 

And even if they do, they never stop adoring, never stop loving. Their love is as honest as it can be. She's encountered countless variations and every single one of them loves him in their own way. 

She admires that: it's the most vulnerable way to love - it's one-sided and if they aren't careful they may lose themselves in it. 

Yet, it doesn't stop them and that's something Esme never stops admiring.

The high 'ping' of the lift arriving at her floor tears her out of her musings. 

She steps out into the long corridor, her gaze instinctively drawn to the door at the end of it. 

He's beyond tired, even his ever rattling brain has slowed down, the most basic needs the only thing in that clever head of his. He's indeed hungry, she can hear his stomach rumble and gently scowls: he didn't eat anything over the course of the day to not keep the fans waiting. 

"Stop musing about me and get in here," he mutters sleepily, sensing her presence outside the room. 

"Bossy as always," she replies as she quickly makes her way down the hallway. 

The heavy door swings open at her touch and she enters the room, kicking the door shut behind her. 

He's sitting by the window, a mug with tea cradled in his hands. Barefoot, only wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled, he looks relaxed even though she can see the harsh lines around his eyes. 

"You really fell asleep during my panel?" he asks incredulously but his lip twitches. 

"Och shut up, you. It's not that I haven't heard it before. If you come up with something I don't know yet, perhaps that'll keep me from dozing of when you're talking," she shoots back. 

"Think you know everything about me, do you?" 

"I do know everything about you." 

He sets the mug down and stands, rolling his shoulders, making her wince as it cracks. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, slowly approaching her, his sparkling gaze locked with hers. 

She nods wordlessly, reaching out for him. As his strong arms wrap around her, she leans against his chest, sighing happily. 

"I am," she whispers, kissing the sensitive spot on his neck that always makes him shiver. 

His arms tighten around her, pulling her as close as possible, letting her feel his desperate longing for her. 

It almost knocks the air out of her lungs. She's still not used to the power of his feelings for her, so deep, so urgent. 

His mouth find hers instantly, even with closed eyes. The feeling when their lips touch is like coming home. 

Both let their guards down; Esme's boundaries, kept up all day crumble at the soft touch of Benedict's tongue to hers. 

His hands on her back press her against his chest, her fingers slide into his hair, tangling in the silky strands. 

He groans quietly, the sound racing through her veins, echoing through every single cell in her body. 

Their thoughts mingle, neither of them able to keep their emotions hidden any longer. 

"Oh God, I need you so much," Benedict murmurs, the words clear as day in her head. 

"I know." 

They're so close, spoken words become unnecessary, they can hear every thought, feel every emotion the other one has.  

It's one of the most intimate things that comes with their unique connection. 

Benedict pulls back, searching her eyes. His own are dark, and she can see herself in them. 

"Esme," he whispers, a plea in his voice and she knows what he wants. 

She loves this. 

Leaning back in his hands, she lets her lids flutter closed, watching herself through his loving eyes. 

First it's only a transparent glow around her, getting brighter with every breath he takes. 

He tries to hide his amusement at her slightly dramatic show but they both know how much he loves it when she shows off for him. 

She rolls her shoulders a bit as if loosing sore muscles and with a loud 'whoosh' unfurls her wings, making the air around them swirl gently. 

The slight glow becomes a bright, almost blinding, gleam, casting the room in a dark green light before it fades again into a barely visible shimmer.

Benedict's smile matches its brightness and he exhales loudly. 

"I should be used to it and yet it still takes my breath away," he mutters, wide eyes flickering over the delicate structure of feathers and filigree bones. 

Esme snickers, spreading them wider, the tips brushing against the walls and the ceiling. 

"Ah," she sighs, "that feels good." 

It's not actually a problem having them folded against her back most of the time but it is a relief to just stretch them, having the warm air in the room ruffle gently through them.  

"You're so beautiful," Benedict suddenly says, his eyes no longer on her wings but on her face. 

The laugh in her throat gets stuck as she sees the raw desire in his eyes and she swallows hard. 

Fiery passion surges through her but it's not hers. It's his, making her dizzy with its strength. He loves her so deeply it's a bit scary. 

He’s never said it. He doesn't have to. 

Even if she doesn't hear it, she can read it on his face when he looks at her, feels it in his kisses, tastes it in his breath. 

Her own feelings threaten to overwhelm her but he senses it, toning down his own as he pulls her close again, kissing her gently. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, using words now as it's less straining for her, "I forgot." 

He pulls up the wall between them, making sure she can breathe again, and she's thankful for that. 

Sometimes his emotions are too strong, filling his entire being and spilling over, washing away that last boundary between them. 

She taught him to keep them in check, right from the start and he was a very docile student but every now and then, in moments when they're alone, he just forgets.

"Better?" 

She nods weakly, leaning against his chest, inhaling his scent deeply, centring herself again. 

A sharp knock on the door makes them jump a little. 

"Oh, Karon's an angel," he mutters, kissing her one last time before letting go. 

She hears him murmur his thanks to the room service and then he pushes the trolley into the room, over to the table by the window. 

He motions her to sit down and she slowly sinks into the soft chair. 

"Hm, I'm famished." 

"When are you not?" Esme teases, chuckling as he glowers playfully at her. 

The tense atmosphere in the room dissolves as they sit down to eat.

Karon made sure they get all the delicacies they both like and for a while it's quiet, in the room and in their heads, as they indulge in their dinner. 

"They really adore you, you know that?" Esme says after a while. 

"Hm, yeah, I've noticed..." 

"They're hanging on your every word..." 

"Not like you, falling asleep on me," he grumbles. 

She doesn't answer, only glares at him but soon they both start laughing. 

"It was a long day," he says, leaning over the table to caress her hand. 

"It was indeed.”

"Bed?" 

"God yes." 

Benedict stands and helps her up, sliding his arm around her waist as he leads her to the bed. 

The sizzling tension from earlier is still lingering between them but they're both too tired to do anything about it. 

Tomorrow, they assure each other as they undress and slip under the duvet. 

Esme has her wings curled around her back again so they don't get in the way as Benedict pulls her against his chest, his steadily beating heart loud and calming in her ears. 

Benedict quickly falls asleep, the day has worn him out but Esme stays awake just a bit longer, revelling in his thoughts as they get hazier.

Images of today swirl through his head, flashing imprints of an exciting day. Faces blur into one another as he drifts deeper into sleep; only hers is as sharp as ever. 

She smiles, snuggling closer into the circle of his arms, making him sigh contently. 

Always the first thought in the morning and the last when he falls asleep.

Eventually her lids become to heavy to keep open and she lets sleep take over, drifting into warm darkness. 

*

Esme dreams. 

_She's standing in the middle of nowhere, listening carefully. A heavy wind is blowing her hair into her face and she sweeps it back impatiently._

_There. A muffled voice, weak and pleading._

_And even despite the obvious panic in the tone, she shivers with delight._

_She's never heard anything like it._

_Her feet carry her closer to the voice and then she can see them._

_Four figures standing over three others, kneeling in front of them, heads down, hands bound behind their backs._

_One of the kneeling man is talking rapidly, stumbling over his words._

_"Please, you don't wanna do this. It's not worth the trouble you may get into. Just take what you want and let us go..."_

_Walking closer to get a better look, Esme rounds the four standing figures, dismissing them immediately as her eyes settle on the one talking._

_Even in the dark of the night she can see his face as clear as day._

_Dark short hair, curling around a distressed yet strangely beautiful face._

_Full lips pressed into a thin line but not able to hide the sensual swing of them._

_Wide eyes stare blindly into the darkness before him._

_Esme tilts her head, narrowing her eyes, trying to pinpoint the colour of his eyes - she can't._

_They shift from blue to green to grey and back, tiny flecks of gold kaleidoscoping in between._

_For a long, breathless moment she just stares; she's never seen anything so marvellous._

_A low whine tears her out of her stupor._

_She watches as the four men pull their hostages up on their feet, pushing them forward._

_The woman stumbles and falls, crying out in pain. The other man calls out and wants to go over._

_There's a harsh curse, the thumb of somethings heavy against a skull and the man sinks motionless to the ground._

_"That's enough," Esme murmurs, closing her eyes._

_The thoughts she's sending out are subtle yet powerful; she knows if she's too forward it'll only lash back._

_'You really don't want to be here. Look, there's a car coming. Might be police. Just leave them, you've better places to be. They're not worth getting in trouble for.'_

_Carefully she directs her thoughts to all four men, making sure they all get the same message._

_A tiny smile lingers on her lips as she sees them flinch when the idea hits. They look at each other, a bit dumbstruck. Gathering around for a moment they discuss quietly, quick words murmured in the a language she doesn't understand._

_'Go now' she sends, stressing the words a bit too much but thankfully the men have got themselves into a bit of a panic now._

_One last shove to the still standing man who stumbles but stays upright and then they hurry down the hill._

_Esme listens to them getting into their car and drive off._

_Silence envelops her and the three people._

_"Guys, are you okay?"_

_The rough voice draws her attention back to the still standing man._

_"They're fine," she whispers, slowly walking over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder._

_He's so tense he jumps at her touch, his muscles taut as a string and instinctively she caresses the hard flesh under her hand._

_"Who are you?" he asks, trying to turn his head to look at her._

_"A friend. Hold still."_

_She unties his hands, running a finger gently over the deep marks in his pale flesh._

_His hands fall down, the fingers are numb and he automatically starts rubbing the life back into them._

_Esme just watches him, waits._

_Eventually he turns around, slowly, hesitant._

_Their eyes meet._

_And he knows._

_His extraordinary eyes widen in utter shock._

_"Hello Benedict," Esme says softly, smiling warmly at him._

_His mouth opens and closes a few times, his mind's a complete mess and she has to suppress a snicker at the chaos in his head._

_"Don't try to understand now, there's more than enough time. For now, help your friends. And then go. There's a little place just a few miles down the road. You'll get help there."_

_He's not moving, just staring at her with a frozen expression on his face._

_As he reaches out with a shaking hand, she knows she should take a step back, get out of his reach._

_It's too early for that kind of connection._

_But she's not moving and as his trembling fingers brush over her cheek, she sighs wistfully._

_Her mind is suddenly reeling with his emotions; he's too shaken up for proper thoughts, there are only feelings and blurry images, her face the clearest of them._

_"Es...Esme..." he mutters, brows drawing into a frown, voice thick with confusion._

_"That's my name, yes," she says, trying to sound light but there's something deep in his heart that makes her swallow around a sudden lump in her throat._

_She really should move, step away from him, he's not ready for this yet._

_But she can't._

_His fingers on her skin, his eyes, those outstanding eyes, have captured her, rooting her to the spot, and she's sinking deeper and deeper into his mind._

_He doesn't have the natural boundaries most people have, everything is unfiltered in there, pouring out like water, filling her with his raw emotions._

_She groans and eventually takes a step back, clearing her mind._

_"You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" she murmurs._

_He laughs. It's shaky and thin but she can hear a wild joy in it, that makes her heart pound harder._

_"Been told that quite a few times,” he wheezes, trying to control his manic giggles. Shock is slowly taking over; he's going to break any moment now._

_"Shit," she grumbles, taking a step towards him._

_She hesitates only a split second before she frames his faces with her hands; his skin is cold but smooth beneath her fingers and she unconsciously runs her thumbs over sharp cheekbones._

_"Benedict," she says lowly, her voice soothing, intended to help him focus._

_And then she just loses track because he leans in and kisses her._

_It's frantic and hard, not actually a kiss, more an onslaught on her mouth. His lips are burning against hers as he slips his tongue into her mouth, ravishing it with a fierceness that takes her breath away._

_Without realising she slides her hands into his dishevelled hair, sighing at the cool strands against her skin, clinging to him like an anchor._

_Broken sounds fill her head and it takes a moment to realise that it's him, groaning from deep down his throat. It's intoxicatingly sexy and Esme presses closer to him, finally returning his rabid kiss._

_If he needs this now, she'll be the last to deny him that._

_It's not what she was sent here for but every now and then the connection between Guardian and their guarded one is bound to become physical due to some deeper bond, neither is aware of._

_She's never experienced it herself, only heard about it. It makes things easier but also a bit more complicated as the human soul isn't the easiest to deal with._

_This one though - Benedict, she reminds herself - is different._

_There's something in him, something so pure, so rare that she doesn't even try to fight it._

_If this is how things will be between them, she's fine with that._

_He's still kissing her but the frantic edge has softened a bit, his lips are gentler now, moving slowly over hers, exploring, learning their shape and it's glorious._

_Esme loses herself a little in it, in the slick friction of his eager tongue against hers, the warmth of his large hands on her back, pressing her closer to his rapidly heaving chest, in the dark moans tumbling from his lips._

_Her own hands play with his hair, relishing the coarse softness of it. Faintly she notices his flat, muscular stomach, pressed against hers, the buzzing energy surging through him and with a little gasp she realises that he's getting hard in his jeans._

_It takes quite some effort to pull back, letting go of his warm body and take a step back._

_They're both panting, his eyes have gone dark, the intensity with which he's watching her now, shoots a little jolt of arousal through her veins._

_She exhales, quirking a smile at him._

_"That's not what I expected," she says, surprised at the hoarseness in her voice._

_"Well, I'm full of surprises," he replies. He's calmer now even though his breath hitches when Esme chuckles._

_"I see. Let's keep the rest for later, okay?"_

_Benedict watches her for a long quiet moment before he nods sharply._

_He squares his shoulders, casting a glance at his friends._

_"Can they see you?" he asks as he slowly walks over._

_They're both passed out; Esme quickly checks on them but they're fine, just unconscious._

_"If I want them to,yes. Right now? No. Only you. So you might not wanna talk out loud to me."_

_Benedict raises an eyebrow at her before he leans down to untie the hands of the woman and then the man._

_"I hear your thoughts," Esme explains, watching how he gently rolls his friends on their back. The man's slowly waking again._

_"So, if I just think...you can hear me?"_

_His lips are pressed into a thin line and it makes her laugh softly._

_She lays a finger on her own lips._

_"Yes. And so can you."_

_His eyebrows fly up, almost vanishing in his hairline before he barks out a laugh. The woman stirs at the sound._

_"How convenient," he mutters while he gently taps the cheek of the woman._

_"It is indeed," Esme agrees._

_Both his friends are waking now and he helps them to sit up, making soothing noises to calm their panic as they remember._

_"It's okay, they're gone," he says, wrapping the woman into his arms as she starts crying. The man casts a weary look around, his hands shaking wildly._

_Esme sends calmness towards him, watching contently how his shaking subsides._

_The woman seems to be calmer as well even without her doing._

_"You're fine now," Esme transmits to Benedict, making a face as he flinches._

_He's still in a bit of a daze, working on autopilot right now and has temporarily forgotten about her._

_"Sorry," she murmurs quietly, "I'll leave you to it. But I'll be around if you need me."_

_Benedict helps his friend to their feet, steadying the woman with an arm around her waist._

_"Thank you," he sends back, his lips tonelessly forming the words._

_He's a quick learner; his thoughts are loud and clear and Esme feels pride washing over her._

_They'll be good together._

_She watches as the trio stumbles down the hill, reaching the street. For a moment they look confused, lost, not knowing where to go._

_Esme nudges Benedict in the right direction and smiles as he straightens his back and points south._

_They start walking down the street, slowly vanishing from Esme's view._

*

She wakes to Benedict's lips kissing a trail down her neck, humming quietly. 

"Hmmm," she yawns, stretching and closing her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his tousled hair. 

"Morning," he mutters against her skin, the smile very audible in his voice. 

"Morning." 

A light shiver runs down her spine as Benedict bites gently at her neck, peppering kisses over every inch he can reach. 

"Nice dreams?" he asks, his fingers sliding under the duvet and over her naked belly. 

"Well, it had you in it, as you very well know, so yeah, kind of." 

He snickers.

"I love it when you dream of me. Even more when you dream about how we met." 

She moans as he licks a stripe up her neck, nibbling at her earlobe while his hands push the duvet off her body. 

"Well, it wasn't actually 'meeting' in the common sense. You know I've been sent..." 

His lips has reached hers and he kisses her - very thoroughly and she loses herself in the heat of his mouth and his clever tongue. 

He kisses like she's the most precious thing in the universe, lays all the love he has for her into it, making her moan longingly into his mouth. Her hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, returning the kiss with the same passion. 

"You were saying?" he grins when he pulls back, panting, lips red and pupils blown wide and dark. 

She growls, arching into him, feeling his erection pressing hot and heavy against her leg. 

"I have no fucking clue," she moans, showing him wordlessly how much she wants him. 

He chuckles lowly and returns to kissing down her neck. His lips are warm and eager, exploring every inch of naked skin. 

Her head falls back into the pillows, her hands still tangled in his wild bed head hair. 

She loves him with all her heart and soul but there's something about him in the morning when he’s just woken that makes her entire body ache. 

When he's still sleepy and soft around the edges. When he's vulnerable and unguarded. When his thoughts are still slow and a bit hazy and his body pliant under her hands. 

He's most himself in those early hours when the sun's not quite up yet and dreams are still lingering in the back of his mind. 

A sharp bite at her nipple tears her out of her thoughts. She groans. 

"Stop musing," he says, his long fingers swirling around her sensitive breasts, sending sparks down her spine. 

"Make me," she replies cheekily. 

"With pleasure," he growls, sucking first one nipple into the tight heat of his mouth before he pays attention to the other one. 

By the time he's done, she's a writhing mess on the bed, sweat's trickling down her back and a hot fire is racing through her veins. 

"That's better," he mutters at the silence he senses in her mind. He slides between her legs, spreading them wide and settles in between. 

His hot breath ghosts over her skin and gooseflesh covers her entire body. 

The deep yearning she feels is hers alone; Benedict keeps his own hidden from her - at least for now. 

His every touch, every caress, every kiss is doubled in their intensity because she can't predict it. She feels every single hair on his head, the scent of his clean sweat and his throbbing arousal fills her nose, she can almost taste his skin, salty and warm against her tongue. 

She blinks open heavy lids, glancing down her body where he lays between her spread leg, his large hands curled around her hips, waiting for her to meet his burning gaze. 

Time slows down when their eyes meet, his blue ones dark and hungry, her own bright and green, shimmering like emeralds in the grey morning light. 

"My angel," he whispers hoarsely, chasing a bone deep shudder through her body. 

He lowers his head, his ragged breath hot against her pale skin. 

She cries out as his tongue slips between her legs, instantly finding the tiny spot that is the most sensitive, swirling slowly around it. 

Sparks explode behind her eyes and suddenly Benedict lets his guard down and the onrush of her own taste floods her mouth, making her moan loudly. 

He moves slowly even though his heart is hammering wildly, and his skin is too tight over his bones, the throbbing of his erection hardly to endure. 

His fingers dig deep into her flesh as he takes her apart, his tongue tantalisingly slow inside her, his teeth carefully nibbling at her delicate skin. 

He's driving her mad and he knows it. He enjoys it even though he can barely control his own needs. His mind has shut down, there's not one coherent thought anymore, only manic passion, burning fiercely, making him dizzy and breathless. 

"Benedict," she whimpers, her hands tighten in his hair, her limbs shaking helplessly. 

He shakes his head, his strong hands pressing her deeper into the mattress; he's not stopping, he's going to take her apart, bit by bit even if it kills him. 

She's moaning constantly now, pleas falling from her lips, her hips moving, arching against his relentless mouth. 

Her orgasm is approaching quickly, spiralling down her spine, the hot tingle settling at the end of it. She's close, so close. 

His tongue is moving quicker now, swirling hard around the nub, creating a sensation that matches nothing in the world. It's too much and not enough and yet he won't stop, can't stop until she breaks and loses herself completely. 

She's uttering his name now, like a prayer over and over, filling his head with images of himself between her legs, her head thrown back, completely at his mercy. 

She's teetering on the edge now, her body has taken over and she's only reacting to his touch anymore. 

Just a tad more. 

That's what he's waiting for. 

Benedict suddenly pulls back, making her whine embarrassingly loud. But he doesn't give her time to mourn the loss of his mouth because he slides up her body, his heated skin creating the most amazing friction against her flesh. 

His wet mouth finds hers, kissing her passionately while his hands push her thighs further apart. She can feel the utter need that rushes through his blood, erasing everything but the carnal desire. 

He slips a trembling hand between their sweaty bodies, guiding himself inside her with a hard push which makes them both cry out in pleasure. 

She wraps her long legs around his small waist and he instantly starts pounding into her, rational thinking long abandoned. 

Feral want has taken over, erases everything but the deep craving for the other one. 

Their boundaries are down, Esme feels every single sensation doubled, his and her own rolled into one overwhelmingly strong longing to lose themselves in the other one. 

Benedict is panting heavily, his hair soaked with sweat, the muscles in his shoulders and legs trembling with the effort to keep his thrusts steady and slow but he's quickly losing control. 

"Don't hold back, my heart," she whispers in his ear as she pulls him closer, feeling her entire body go rigid as her orgasm coils down her midst. 

He throws his head back, let's go of every last bit of rationality and just takes what he needs. 

His hips move faster and faster, pounding hard and unforgiving into her, every impact has sparks explode behind her closed eyes. 

Harsh gasps fill the air between them as they move together frantically, the sounds of slapping flesh obscenely loud between their pants and wordless cries.

Benedict lets out a hoarse whine and then his voice breaks as he spills his release into her, trembling heavily in her arms as he rides the waves of his orgasm. 

Esme opens her mind wide; the sheer power of the sensations washing over Benedict is all she needs. 

Her orgasm is intense, blinding her for a second with its strength, leaving her shaking wildly in Benedict's arms, gasping for air. 

He's collapsed on top of her, heaving and sweaty, clinging to her, murmuring senseless endearments against her skin, mouthing sloppy kisses over her neck and shoulder. 

After a moment he rolls off her but instantly curls around her again, his arm resting heavily over her stomach, his fingers lazily caressing her skin. 

Esme turns her head, her hand covering his on her belly as she watches him collect himself again. 

His breathing is slowly returning to normal, his lids are closed and a blissful smile lingers over his swollen lips. 

Outside the sun's coming up, casting his angular face in golden shadows, enhancing his unique beauty: the sharpness of his delicate bones under milky skin, the sensuality of his mouth, parted now, breathing deeply, the straight nose, a tad too small for his face. 

"Hmpf," he grumbles, having followed her thoughts quietly. 

"It's cute," she says, smiling as she raises a hand and lets a finger slide down said nose. 

He grumbles some more but she ignores it in favour of contouring his face now, fingertips feather-light on his warm skin. 

"Such a gorgeous man and so little faith," she mutters to herself, chuckling as he scrunches his nose, causing those adorable crinkles around his eyes. 

"Och shut up," he grunts, closing her mouth with a slow kiss, derailing her thoughts with practiced ease. 

No matter how often he hears it, he'll never be comfortable hearing what a gorgeous man he is. Not from fans and not from her. He just can't grasp the fact that exactly what he thinks is odd about him is what makes him such a stunning man. 

She's long given up trying to convince him, it's futile but every now and then she marvels over it, trying to make him see himself through her eyes. 

She's biased, he then says. Which is true. 

With a shiver she remembers the one and only time she tried to transmit the view of his fans to him. 

It was a huge disaster; he almost lost it and they got into their first fight over that. She swore never to do that again. 

Only emotions and only if he allows it, which he does more often than she thought he would. 

As she found out he can use it to be less shy at events like this convention, they made an agreement that allowed her to fuel his self-confidence around fans, help him to relax under the sharp eyes of the fandom. 

It's not often that he needs it, he's very aware of himself, knows that he's a good actor and a 'passable human being' as he says, he only needs a reminder every once in a while as to why people go mad wherever he goes. 

"Can we not talk about this right now?" 

His tone's disgruntled even though his warm hand on her stomach is still gentle, trailing aimless patterns over her skin. 

Instead of answering she leans over and kisses him deeply. He moans quietly and turns over, pulling her into her arms, kissing back just as unhurriedly. 

They get lost in the slick slide of their tongues, their boneless bodies moulding effortlessly into each other. 

Benedict's phone makes them break apart. 

"If it's not an emergency I'll claim to be sleep phoning," he growls into the mobile. 

Esme can hear Karon's thin chuckle through Benedict's ears before she pulls away. She rolls out of bed and heads for the shower; it's going to be another long day. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later they're both showered and dressed. Karon has arranged breakfast in a private suite to go through the plan of the day. 

It's Benedict's last appearance before Karon's headed home; they also have to talk through the logistics of his and Esme's two week break, away from everything and everyone. Because even though it's supposed to be a holiday, there are still precautions to take, arrivals and departures to talk through so they can enjoy their time off and not run head first into a paparazzi ambush. 

There's just one thing they have to do first before they can leave.

"Ready?" Esme asks, holding out her hands to Benedict. 

He smiles that breathtakingly adorable smile at her and nods. 

Taking her hands he steps close to her, their noses almost touching. 

With a quick roll of her shoulders she unfurls her wings, letting them spread wide behind her, snickering as Benedict's breath catches. 

He does it every time even though he's seen it countless times.

Moss green light filters through her feathers, painting a beautiful pattern of emerald shadows over his angular face and for a moment she can almost see the boy underneath the man he is now. 

A boy, struck by the wonders of his Guardian Angel. 

So very young, speechless in the light of the mystical, his curious eyes roaming over her wings, fingers twitching with the urge to touch, to caress.

The love Esme has for him - and feels coming from him in return - threatens to overwhelm her and she quickly retreats, concentrating on her current task. 

She closes her eyes, feeling him do the same as she slowly folds her wings around them both until the tips slide against each other, cocooning them from their surroundings, a quiet shelter in a loud world. 

Breathing calm and deep, he follows her lead, centring himself with every inhale he takes and slowly rebuilds the walls faded away over the night. 

For him it's a brick wall, strong and indestructible, needing the strength of concrete to keep his thoughts safe. 

For her it's something less firm: the fast growing surface of ivy, green as her wings and quickly protecting her own mind from the whirring of the outside thoughts and feelings.

He was surprised to witness this the first time. 

'Why ivy? Isn't something solid better?' he had asked, mental fingers sliding curiously over smooth leaves. 

'Try breaking through' she had invited him. 

He had failed epically. The yielding leaves gave way to his rather brutal attempts to tear her protection down only to grew back instantly. Amused she had watched as he fought through the wall of green and eventually getting stuck in there, flexible branches slipping over his wrists and his waist, not letting him in but neither letting him back away again. He was caught and at her mercy. 

Laughing at his frustrated face she had let him go. 

'Nothing beats nature' she had said, trying to keep the smugness out of her tone. 

Of course he had caught it but stubbornly stuck with his choice of protection. 

Which was fine. 

She was the only one he had to keep out anyway, and it was only because he had to get through the day without being distracted by her. It didn't have to keep all the thoughts and emotions at bay Esme had to deal with on a daily basis.

Now she gently pokes against his wall, making sure it's stable before she nods. 

"Well then... one last day. Tomorrow we're free. At least for a few days." 

He sighs, his hands squeezing hers tightly.

"Can't fucking wait." 

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his lips and takes a step back, reluctantly letting go of his hands. 

For a split second they just look at each other, silently drinking in the sight over the other one. 

She picks up a trace of pure unabashed adoration and it makes her heart leap with joy. He smirks and consequently shoos her out of his head, and she leaves willingly. 

It's for the best. The later it will get today the more flimsy his boundary will become but that's only natural. He's still learning, still trying to keep it up all day and he gets better every time. 

She starts for the door but Benedict's loud throat clearing stops her. 

He doesn't say a word, only pointedly stares at her still spread wings, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Pfft," she says, "nobody can see them." 

"Well, I can," he says insistently, "and they're bloody distracting." 

She chuckles. 

"You're too damn easy to distract, my love." 

He pouts which makes her laugh out loud.

"Fine." 

Stretching them first she fills almost the entire room with them, majestically lets them flutter once, twice and giggles as Benedict inhales sharply. But then she closes them, folds them neatly behind her back, letting them vanish from his sight. 

"Happy now?" she asks teasingly. 

"Goddamn woman, you make me wanna forget about everything and just drag you back to bed," he growls, his voice dropping low, making her shiver. 

She has the advantage of her wings to make him lose his mind but he's got that voice, that deep baritone that makes her knees weak and her hands shaky. That makes her want to curl up in his lap and just listen to him talk in that velvet tone that makes her think of sweet honey and dark chocolate. 

"Stop it," she says, the words getting stuck in her throat as his heated gaze find hers. 

"Make me," he drawls, slowly walking over to her, his eyes never leaving hers. 

"Benedict, please," she whispers but is helpless as he pulls her against his chest, his mouth hovering only millimetres over hers. 

"Please what?" he murmurs, his nose rubbing against hers, the touch sending hot sparks along her nerves. 

"Please stop or please go on?" 

His voice is as deep as it gets, resonating through her bones, echoing in her head and she's completely helpless when he finally closes the distance between them and kisses her with a fervent passion that she struggles to keep upright.

Only his arms around her, strong and warm, keep her on her feet, her own hands scrambling for a hold in his shirt. 

Her mind is wiped, there's not one coherent thought in there, only the feeling of his hot tongue in her mouth, his fresh scent in her nose and a tingling sensation running through her veins, fuelling the always simmering fire in her stomach. 

His hoarse moans are not helping. Neither are the tiny shudders of arousal that run over his skin, making him tremble and press closer to her. 

She can feel the heat in his trousers, feels how he gets from interested to fully hard within a few seconds. 

It takes all her self control to pull back, splaying her fingers over his chest and push him away. 

He's gasping and the glance he's directing at her is fiery and dangerous. 

"Stop now," she pants, trying to collect herself, "we have two weeks from tonight on. And then I won't stop you. You can do whatever you want. But right now we are going to have breakfast and then get you through the day." 

He growls roughly and the sound unfurls some animal instincts inside her that makes her want to throw herself at him, claw at his stupid clothes and sink her nails in his delicate skin, leaving red marks all over his muscular body. Her skin feels as if it's burning, feverish and hot, stretching too tightly over her bones. Her heart is hammering and the blood rushing through her veins is loud, dizzying. Breathing suddenly becomes difficult and she has to force her lungs to keep up sucking in some much needed oxygen.

She stumbles back, shocked at herself. It's something she has never felt before, experiencing such rural instincts, wanting to just give in and let her body do what it wants most. 

He senses that something is wrong. 

"Esme? Love, you okay?" he asks, his voice normal now, a hint of concern in it. 

"One second," she croaks, taking deep, calming breaths, getting herself back in control. 

"Darling, what is it? You're scaring me here..." 

He sounds helpless, his hands fluttering through the air, wanting to reach out for her even though he seems to know that's the last she needs right now. 

"It's...okay, just...let's have breakfast," she grits out, still inhaling deeply. 

His eyes narrow but he nods, leaving the room without a word. Worry is coming from him in thick waves but she'll deal with that later. 

Slowly she follows him, her knees trembling a little but it seems like she's pushed that overwhelming urge back into a corner of her mind where it doesn't do any damage. 

For now. 

*

When they sit down for breakfast with Karon, she feels better. Her mind is still reeling a little over the untamed powers she felt earlier but going through the things of the day keeps her from thinking about it too much.

"Alright, now that that's settled, anything else I need to know?"

Karon leans back in her seat, satisfaction radiating from her in silent ripples which makes Esme smile.

Benedict's publicist has to take on so much with him. She's been by his side for a long time already, handling his appearances with a practised ease and it doesn't always go smooth. He can be quite the handful; sometimes it can be pretty frustrating, for him and for her.

Esme knows that but Karon deals with him perfectly.

He sets down his coffee, thinking.

"Hm, I'd love to stay for a bit longer, explore the country a little."

His gaze slides quickly over Esme, smiling softly, before he returns his eyes to Karon.

"I figured," she grins, pulling out a list and hands it to him.

"A few hotels, low key but your standards. Pre-booked but easy to cancel. And a list of...well, things one can do around the East Coast."

A smug smile dances over her lips as she watches him look over the list.

Esme doesn't have to see it, she knows exactly what's on it.

Karon and her put it together on their flight here while he was sound asleep.

"I've taken the liberty of booking you a rental for two weeks, returnable anywhere along the way so you don't have to drive back halfway through."

The deep gratefulness coming from Benedict is calm yet strong and deep.

He doesn't say it very often but he's so thankful to have Karon, to have someone who knows exactly what he needs when he needs it.

Karon's not like Esme, she has to work hard for it but over time she's come to know him like nobody else and it pays off every single day.

Very gently Esme channels his silent gratitude and lets Karon feel it.

She doesn't know what exactly Esme is but she's made her own assumptions. Neither of them will ever tell her but she's far too clever to believe that Esme is _just_ Benedict's girlfriend. She knows she's very special to him and that their relationship goes deeper than anything she's seen before.

"Thank you so much," Benedict says, smiling at her, "what would I do without you?"

Karon grins.

"Get lost? Wandering around the wilderness?" she deadpans but the content expression on her face belies her words.

"Your flights back are on the 28th from Adelaide. Just make sure you're back in time."

He nods, gathering her lists and notes and wants to pack them but Esme takes them from him.

"I'll take that," she says, winking at Karon and they both laugh.

"Don't you think I can look after myself?" he grumbles, eyeing them both.

"No," the women say in unison and break out in laughter.

He's such a clever man but when it comes to organising stuff he's a disaster. He would never admit it but he'd be lost without people around him who do that for him, making sure he's on time and help him to stick to his schedules.

He mutters under his breath but his eyes are sparkling with barely suppressed excitement.

Karon glances at her watch.

"It's time."

He sighs and nods.

"Will you give us a minute?" he asks.

"Of course."

She gathers her stuff, stands and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Why again have I agreed to this?" he says as soon as she's gone.

"Because you love your fans and finally want to give back what they gave you," Esme says, standing as well.

"Ah right, I knew there was something."

She chuckles and beckons him over.

"Come here you."

He stands and slowly walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close.

She returns the hug, her arms tight around his waist and they stand there for a moment, just breathing each other in.

A slight nervousness fills him: concern about the upcoming photo-session. Having so many people come up to him still fills him with a bit of worry.

"It'll be fine, I'll have an eye on them," she assures him, nuzzling his neck, placing a soft kiss just above his collarbone.

He hums quietly, not wanting to let go, seemingly content to just stand there with her in his arms.

"You've got to get going," she reminds him gently, although she's very reluctant to let go.

Sighing deeply he nods and loosens his grip around her. He leans down and kisses her carefully, only an innocent peck on her lips.

She's thankful for that. She's not sure she can deal with anything too passionate right now.

"Go," she urges, gently pushing him towards the door.

With one last look at her, he squares his shoulders and opens the door.

She watches him close it behind him, feeling his mind set slide from the private Benedict to Benedict the public person.

It's one of the things that never ceases to surprise her: how easily he switches between those personas.

Not that he's not himself when he's in public. It's more like a toned down version of himself, still very approachable and open and yet careful about what he says and does.

The public will never get the whole man.

Only bits and pieces, parts he allows to show, glimpses at the man behind the curtain.

Esme tears herself out of her musings and leaves the room, wandering down the corridor until she comes into the lobby.

Instantly she's surrounded by the incredible energy the fans radiate, almost getting overwhelmed with the strength of their emotions.

It's the last day of the convention, farewell is hanging heavy in the air and one doesn't have to be psychic to feel it.

Esme briefly considers having another wander around the place but she's oddly weary and it's harder to keep her mind shut off.

Instead she heads over to the photo room, slipping in through a back-door, making sure nobody sees her.

Benedict's chatting quietly with the photographer but looks up when she sneaks in, a slow smile instantly spreading over his face.

The photographer notices and turns, curious as to his reaction. She nods at him; they met yesterday and he knows that she's welcome in here.

"Well then," he calls out, turning back to Benedict, shooing him over to where he's set up his camera, "ready for round two?"

"As ready as one can be," Benedict says, winking at Esme as he takes his position in front of the gold background.

Esme settles into a chair off to the side, prepared for a few long hours.

"Everyone ready?" the photographer asks, casting a look around the room, "then let the masses in."

One of the security staff opens the door, eliciting loud screams from outside which makes Benedict flinch before he can mask it with a polite grin.

The first people bounce into the room, barely able to listen to the staff as they are lead into orderly queues to await their turn.

Their excitement floods the room and Esme retreats further into her head; today's going to be intense.

She feels Karon's heightened attention even though she seems calm and relaxed, feels the sharpness of the security guy just outside the photo booth, watching every movement of the fans with narrowed eyes, ready to step in.

The first photos are taken and Benedict is his usual charming self, greeting every person with a smile and a handshake.

Everything goes very smooth, photo after photo is taken without trouble and Esme feels him relax, losing the harsh edge of his wariness.

She leans back and lets her eyes roam over him, drinking in all the little things she sometimes forgets about.

It's not that she's not paying attention, more like the other way around.

She spends so much time in his head that his physical appearance is only secondary.

Which is a shame, he's such a gorgeous human being.

Esme knows every inch of him like her own body, could recognize him out of a million people within a heartbeat.

If she closes her eyes, she can feel the toned plains of his torso under her fingertips, can trace the hard muscles of his arms and thighs under his smooth skin.

Tall and lean, not a gram fat on his lanky body.

His hair is tousled, red-brown reflexes dance over the short curls, enhancing his angular face.

The blue shirt he's wearing makes his eyes shine even brighter than they usually are. They sparkle like sapphires in the warm hue of the lights, the soft grey-gold of the background gives his skin a gentle glow.

His back's straight, his stance secure, the long legs in those tight black jeans steady.

He's gaining confidence with every photo taken, jokes with the people and even ignores his own instruction of 'no poses' every now and then.

Esme sighs: he's utterly mesmerising in his unique beauty and he is hers.

Sometimes she can't believe that this outstanding creature, this wonderful sensual man is hers and hers alone and she's going to spend the rest of his life with him.

A sharp pang of regret has her flinch.

That's the only thing she hates about her own being. She won't be able to grow old with him. Due to her nature she's caught in a state of eternal youth. She can alter her appearance if necessary but it's tiring and costs a lot of strength. Most Guardians don't bother with that as their guarded ones barely get to see them anyway. Only if there's such a deep bond between them, they do make the effort.

She knows she would do anything for him but she also dreads the day when she has to let him go. She will be there till his last breath, will be by his side when he leaves this world without her.

It breaks her heart when she thinks about it.

The one thing they won't be able to share.

The one thing that has the power to separate them.

Cruel, inevitable Death.

She already knows that her life won't be the same once Benedict is gone. She will live forever but her world will be a lot dimmer without his bright light in it.

A mental poke has her shoot up in her seat. Benedict's blue eyes are on her, concern very visible in them.

He's not concentrating enough to reach her audibly but his expression is as clear as words.

"I'm fine," she says, carefully keeping her thoughts hidden from him, sending a wave of assurance his way.

He's still frowning, doesn't believe her but has no means to check for himself.

"It's okay, just keeping myself occupied," she smiles and even though she can see he's not completely convinced, he quirks a smile and focuses on his task again.

She keeps the aura of quiet content around her, doesn't want him to worry about her.

There's not much she can keep from him, wants to keep from him, but this one thing she must hide.

He simply can't know, it will destroy him.

And her as well, seeing him suffer would break her soul.

Even though he's much stronger than he thinks, he wouldn't be able to bear it.

His mind is capable of things she hadn't seen in humans before and it equally scares and prides her.

As unusually appealing as his looks are, as are his hidden powers.

Not obvious at first, only showing after one has a closer look, digs a bit deeper to discover what's below his uniquely handsome face and his well spoken words.

She's quite certain it's partly responsible for the huge adoration and love his fans have for him. Even without knowing, they seem to sense that he's more than what one sees at first sight. Somehow they respond to the spirituality he radiates without even knowing or wanting to do so. Combined with his perfectly educated behaviour it makes for a combination only few can withstand.

It may become a problem over time.

She's working with him, helping him control his mind and he's good, very good. But the more they train, the stronger he becomes. He started to pick up Karon's thoughts here and there and that scares Esme.

It's not meant to be. She's supposed to be the only one whose thoughts and feelings he ought to read.

They need to be careful.

First rule Guardians learn: do not, under any circumstances, expose yourself to anyone but your guarded one.

They understand, and the connection between them makes sure they are not able to talk about it. If they ever try, the words will stick in their throats.

But if a mind becomes too strong - although it very rarely happens - there's nothing that will stop them.

Esme isn't worried about him blabbing about it, he's a very private person after all and he knows nobody would believe him. But his highly sensitive nature, the deeply caring side of his and his wish to just help people might become a problem. He would try to help people, would perhaps even try to influence others to do good and that's something she can't let happen – even though she knows he would never misuse it.

She promises herself to work harder on his protection. They need to double his shields to the outside and she needs to find out how strong his influence on others is.

So far there hasn't been any signs that he can do it but she wants to make sure of it.

The two weeks off will be a good chance to test him, see what he's capable of.

There's nothing worse than a human using powers, whether its conscious or not, he's not meant to have.

"Alright, that's the last one."

The loud call from the photographer tears her out of her thoughts and she sits up. She groans at the pain shooting through her back; she's really not meant to sit still for such a long time.

Although she's surprised at how quickly time went by today. She hadn't even realised how long she'd been been in her own head.

Benedict is thanking the photographer and then slowly comes over.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he sits next to her, taking a sip of the water bottle, Karon managed to push in his hand before she disappeared.

Esme looks at him thoughtfully, letting her gaze wander over the lines on his forehead, the crinkles around his eyes, the slight apprehension in his shining eyes.

"Do you ever stop worrying about me?" she asks, reaching out and caressing his cheek.

He tilts his head, considering it.

"Probably not, no. I know, I don't have to, you've told me more than once and somewhere deep inside I know that. But I also have eyes in my head. I can see that something is bothering you. And no, I don't have to be in your head to feel it. I can see you're hiding something from me and by all means, you're allowed to have secrets, even from me. What worries me is that I have the feeling that it's my doing..."

His voice trails off as he's leaning into her touch.

She shakes his head, her fingertips drawing tiny circles over his skin. Knowing that she can't tell him what she really had been thinking about, she settles for the other thing that hadn't left her mind all morning.

And it's only as she starts trying to explain, that she realises how deeply unhinged she is by it.

"It's not your fault. I'm just a bit shaken up today but it is not your fault. I'm just a bit..." she hesitates, struggling to find the words, "confused about my own feelings. Not about you, god no," she hastily adds as she sees his eyes widen, "you know how I feel about you and that will never change. No, it's just...," she swallows hard and then slips into mental speak.

It's easier to deal with something emotional when he can feel it rather than trying to put it into words.

Carefully she lets him see what she felt this morning: the raw lust washing over her and how hard it was to control it. How she had to battle the all erasing passion that came over her and how scary it was for her to feel so incapacitated by her own emotions.

His breath hitches as the images rush through his brain and she can feel his heart pick up its beat but he quickly regains his composure, deliberately ignores the blood rushing through his veins.

He exhales, lays his hand on hers on his cheek and when he speaks, his voice is quiet.

"I'm sorry, my darling. I had no idea how frightening that is for you. Will it help when I tell you that I feel like this every single second I'm with you?"

His eyes are glassy, shimmering deep blue and a wistful smile lingers on his lips.

She looks at him in shock, shaking her head.

"But I never... I mean not always..."

She has trouble forming the words, her mind is rattling and faintly she feels how he pulls back from it, not wanting to intrude.

"My heart, that's human nature. We crave this feeling with every breath we take but we learn to handle it, learn to suppress it when needed. It gets in the way every once in a while but over time one learns to deal with it."

He pulls her hand from his cheek and presses a soft kiss into her palm before he lays it flat on his rapidly hammering heart.

"This? Is beating for you, and only you. Every single beat, every pump of blood through my veins, is only to keep me alive so I can be there for you, be _with_ you, touch you, kiss you, feel you. I didn't know before but I've been waiting for you my whole life. You are my everything but you knew that the second we met, didn't you?"

She nods wordlessly, captured by the intensity of his words.

"I have never felt like this before," he says, his voice rough now, "and I know I never will again. My entire world has come down to loving you and if I never say it, it's only because words can't express my feelings for you, can't tell how precious you are to me. What you felt, I feel with every breath I take, every moment I am with you and if I don't keep it in check, it will tear me apart one day. You see, us humans, we can only handle so much before we break. I realised that when I met you. But if it kills me to love you with everything I have, everything that makes me human, I'll happily die in your arms. You know why? Because I know I'll have had the most wonderful thing in the entire world. A love so deep and so pure that even the span of a blink of an eye would be enough. To feel that loved and love back in return, to know there's the one being that feels exactly the way I do, that's all I need."

Tears fill her eyes and there's a weight on her chest that makes breathing very hard.

She knows that he loves her, just like she loves him, but hearing him say all this, lay his soul bare before her with such beautiful words is something she can barely endure.

Her own heart is racing, close to bursting with such intense emotions it makes her tremble heavily.

Cursing quietly he lets go of her hand and gathers her in his arms, pressing her impossibly close to his chest, murmuring apologies and endearments in her hair.

It takes a while for them both to calm down enough to sort their thoughts, regain control over their emotions again.

"I feel like an idiot," she mumbles into his shirt as she can speak again.

It makes him laugh lowly, his chest rumbles with the vibrations and he presses a kiss on her forehead.

"That's what we are, love. Idiots driven by basic needs and confusing sentiment. But that's what makes us human."

"But I'm not human."

He chuckles and pulls back, searching her eyes.

"I'd say you are more human than anyone I know."

Leaning down he kisses her, his lips warm and familiar, the softness of them helping her to centre herself again.

"Better now?" he murmurs, gently sucking at her lower lip, making her moan quietly.

She nods, her head still a bit in a daze but his calm presence soothing her frayed nerves.

"Can I leave you alone or are you going to worry yourself senseless?" he asks, leaning back to catch her eye.

She nods again, finally pulling herself back together, suddenly overly aware of her surroundings.

The room is empty, only Karon lingers by the door, keeping a wary eye on them but she's used to there closeness and her posture is relaxed.

"Maybe go and have a nap?" he suggests, "I can deal on my own for a while. Would love to have you there for the panel though..."

He lets the words hang in the air, carefully neutral, leaving the choice to her.

Autographs are less stressful for him but the panels are something else and he loves to have her in the room with him.

"Are you sure?" she asks, the idea of a lay down is quite inviting right now. She feels worn out and closing her eyes for a while, without any disturbing thoughts around her sounds heavenly.

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and looks over to Karon who smiles absently at him.

"I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself for a bit. And I still have her to keep me in check. Go, get some rest. Want me to wake you for the panel?"

She shakes her head and kisses him quickly, runs a hand through his mussed hair.

"Not necessary, I'll set my alarm."

"Okay then. See you later."

He turns and slowly walks over to Karon, who nods reassuringly in Emse's direction. She doesn't have to read her mind to know that she will have an extra watchful eye on him. She doesn't know what just happened, doesn't have to, her female instincts have picked up the little crisis between them and she will look after him for Esme.

They're almost through the door when she remembers something.

"Karon?" she calls after them.

"Yes?"

"Make sure he drinks enough."

Their eyes meet and for a second Esme can see the deep caring the other woman has for Benedict. Warmth fills her, tears threaten to fall again but she wills them down.

"I will," Karon says softly, laying a hand on Benedict's arm as he walks past her, who snorts gently at the display of worry about his water consumption.

Esme hears him mutter something that sounds like 'mother hens' and it makes her smile.

She watches them leave, the door closing behind them. For a moment she keeps staring at the dark wood, too weary to move just yet.

"Go to bed!"

His words are loud and clear in her head, making her jump a little.

"Yes Sir," she sends back, making him grin cheekily.

Following his words, she walks towards yet another door which leads to an empty hallway, still contemplating the events of the morning.

She'd thought she knew everything about human nature but she never expected to fall victim to her own feelings like a mere mortal.

When they first met, she had instantly felt that he had more effect on her than anyone before him.

She had never met anyone like him. Most of her previous missions never went past the normal watching from afar, she'd barely showed herself to any of them. She can count on one hand the number of humans who have seen her when she worked a job.

He is special, has been right from the start. When she was sent to him, it was made clear that the usual 'stay back, wait and see' approach wouldn't work on him. She had been specifically told to show herself right from the beginning and do absolutely anything to make sure he stays alive.

That in itself had been a tad unusual but not downright strange; every now and then there were a few people who were overly precious and worth a few tweaks in the bigger theme.

What had been a surprise was that she had been drawn to him - even before she'd even laid eyes on him.

With a smile she remembers the delightful jolt that ran down her spine when she's been told who he was. The second she had first touched him and those sparks coursing through her veins had intensified, she had known that he would be her last assignment for a while.

What she hadn't expected was the sheer power of her feelings for him.

No, not true.

She had felt very strongly towards him, which did happen every now and then but had never happened to her.

She had opened herself to him with everything she had, had laid her entire being into his large gentle hands in that dark cold night in the middle of nowhere.

And after only a few minutes she had known that she'll never be able to love like this again.

His words from earlier gently ring through her head and suddenly she knows what he means.

She is more human than ever before – he made her like this.

Of course she has feelings, emotions, can love and dislike – hate is a foreign concept though – but it was him who wordlessly showed her what real love means, what human emotions are.

Their bond had deepened over time, grown strong and indestructible and she knew without a doubt that nothing in the universe would be able to destroy it.

And yet, the all empowering force from this morning, the sheer raw need she had felt was something she hadn't expected.

Perhaps it was some ancient instinct, buried so deep only a love as strong as theirs was able to re-discover them.

It's futile to think about it - it's there and she has to deal with it.

She takes a deep breath and empties her mind.

Pushing the door of their room closed behind her, she kicks of her shoes and falls face first into bed.

The pillows still smell of Benedict and she sighs happily as she buries her face in it, eyes already sliding closed.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

*

She wakes with a jolt at the sound of her mobile going off.

Hazily she reaches out for it, squinting at the screen.

'Setting an alarm, my ass'

"Bugger," she mumbles, quickly texting back.

'On my way'

There's no reply and after glancing at the time, she knows why.

She slept longer than she had expected and he's probably already on his way to take the stage.

Cursing under her breath she jumps out of bed and slips in her shoes, hurrying out of the room and down the corridor.

She arrives at the panel room out of breath and quickly enters the room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Thankfully the entire room is roaring with laughter, and it takes her only a second to see why.

Snickering to herself she sneaks up the stairs into the audience, finding herself an empty seat.

The all enveloping mirth around her ebbs away a little as Benedict stops dancing and falls into the chair, grinning cheekily at the people in front of him.

Esme sends a quick hello his way so he knows she's there and he acknowledges it with a bright smile before he directs his attention towards the fans again.

She leans back and just watches and listens, faintly wondering why he wanted her here: he's doing absolutely fine.

There's not the slightest hint of nervousness in him anymore, quite the opposite. He's on fire, answers the various questions with charm and ease, teases and is as sassy as she hasn't seen him outside his circle of family and friends.

Today's audience is smart and asks just the right questions to get him going. He waffles more than normally but nobody minds. They love it when he does that as he always answer more than just one question that way, sometimes even telling more than he wants to.

Some questions make him laugh, some very thoughtful, and overall he seems to have a blast.

The hour that was scheduled for his talk is over quickly and even though he refuses to leave, eventually he does, waving and talking until the very last second before he finally vanishes behind the door under thunderous applause.

As soon as the door falls shut, all the restraint he put on himself over the weekend vanishes and he's filled with a guilty relief.

Guilty that he's so relieved that it's over.

Contradictory as always.

It makes her smile as she stands to leave the auditorium.

People around her are chatting loudly, comparing photos and notes, sharing their excitement.

The air is charged with their pent up energy, uncontrolled now that the convention is over, and the power of it makes her dizzy; Esme feels as if she's high.

She stumbles through the people, a helpless grin on her face, trying to locate Benedict.

Which she can't.

Not with all those whirring thoughts around her.

For one second she panics but then she takes a deep breath, concentrates.

And there he is, just as giddy as the people around her, his mind ecstatic, bouncing, planning already.

"Free," his voice sing-songs in her head, his glee childlike, his laughter loud and carefree.

And for one moment it is too much for Esme. Tears are prickling behind her lids even though she's smiling widely.

The entire weekend had been exciting and draining all the same. Keeping up her shields has become harder and harder and she's looking forward to a few quiet days.

Just Benedict and her.

His thoughts have become wordless, the only thing she gets from him is a kaleidoscope of images and the underlying need for her.

"Soon, my love, soon," she murmurs soothingly.

It'll take a while for him to eventually join her: there's still a few things to clear up, to take care of. Things she's not needed for, would only be in the way of; she would draw his entire attention and he would never get anything done.

He also wanted to take Karon out for dinner.

She doesn't mind. A few hours alone will do her good, help her to settle back into a calmer head space.

Sending one last warm embrace his way, making his heart leap, she closes off her mind and returns to their room.

The sun's low on the horizon already, filling the room with a golden light. Instead of packing, as she wanted to, she wanders over to the window, losing herself in the beauty of a colourful sunset.

Pulling one of the chairs towards the window, she sits down, knees drawn under her chin, looking outside and bathing in the warmth of the sinking sun.

Dusk has always been her favourite time of day. Everything slows down, gets ready for the night, the dying light envelops everything with quiet beams.

She rests her head on her knees, letting the oncoming night fill her like it fills the world around her.

*

Benedict's warm hands on her shoulders wake her.

"Hey sleepy head," he murmurs as he leans down and kisses the top of her head.

She hums in reply and leans back into his touch.

He smells of tea and smoke and there's a hint of Karon's perfume clinging to his shirt.

"Karon says goodbye," he says quietly, picking up her thoughts, "and I should tell you to make sure I sleep enough."

She chuckles. He does indeed sleep far too little when he's working but she's certain that he's going to get enough sleep now that he's on holidays.

"She's left?" Esme asks drowsily, still in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness.

"Yes, wanted to catch an earlier flight."

A sting of regret fills her; she didn't really say goodbye and it'll be a bit till she sees her again.

"She said, you'd be happy to not see her for a while," Benedict says with a smile, drawing soothing circles against her neck.

"Still, should have said goodbye myself."

He walks around her chair and crouches down before her, his face soft and his eyes gentle.

"Don't worry about it, she'll be fine."

Tilting his head, he gives her a quick once over before he stands again, holding out his hands.

"Come to bed."

She takes his hands and he pulls her up, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight.

They stand in silence, their calm breaths the only sound in the room.

He's very warm, radiating heat against her own cool skin; it's gone dark outside and the Australian autumn is cold, creeping in through the still open window. She shivers and he tsks her, slowly leading her over to the bed.

He gently lowers her onto the mattress before he kicks off his shoes and crawls in bed as well.

She instantly curls around him, pressing her nose into the hollow of his neck, inhaling his scent and sighs contently.

Sliding his arms around her again, he shifts until they're both comfortable, wrapped up in each other, barely space between their bodies.

Her head rests just above his heart, beating strong and steady against her ear, his elegant fingers buried in her hair, holding her close.

She feels his love envelop her like a blanket, sliding over her skin like something physical, cocooning her so completely that she doesn't feel the slightest desire to move ever again.

Their legs entwine, searching the contact they couldn't allow over the day, wanting to touch as much of the other one as possible. She slips her hand between their bodies, splaying her fingers over his chest and even through the fabric of his shirt she can feel the goosebumps that accompany her motions. Closing her eyes, she can almost feel the smoothness of his light skin, can see the freckles dotting his torso.

Humming again, he pulls her impossibly closer, kisses her forehead, his breath ghosting warm over her lids.

And it fills her with such a quiet joy it makes her heart ache and her eyes sting with tears.

Low soothing noises rumble through his chest as he notices, his aimlessly wandering hands caressing the back of her head, her neck, her shoulders, wordless comfort that helps her more than anything spoken.

And together they fall asleep, slowly drifting into dreams they share, with the knowledge that they have each other, the only constant in endless darkness.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Benedict is moving slowly inside her, sparking the most amazing sensations in her, his hands digging deep into her shoulders, holding her tightly. 

She moans as he thrusts deeper, arching hard against his sweaty chest. 

His ragged pants get louder as his movements become quicker, his hot breath against her neck causing delicious shivers on her own heated skin. 

She wraps her shaky legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, groaning shamelessly in his ear, urging him on.

His answering growl is long and low, rippling through his body and resonates in her own. 

Muffling her outcry in his shoulder, she comes, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her, reducing her to a boneless mess. 

His head drops heavy on the pillow next to her, his hips stutter and then still abruptly as he spills his release inside her, muttering incoherent words in her ear. 

He collapses on top of her, covering her still trembling limbs with his own, his heart hammering against the sensitive skin between her breasts. 

Carding her hands slowly through his damp hair, she's content just laying there, feeling his breath calming down. 

"'m heavy," he murmurs eventually yet he doesn't move. 

She shakes her head, holding him close. 

"You're not." 

He makes a protesting sound deep in his throat that has her tremble involuntarily, and he chuckles softly as he hears her rambling praise about his voice.

"One day I'll just _talk_ you to orgasm," he murmurs amused, "I have the feeling, I'd succeed..." 

"And I'd love for you to try," she replies quietly, clenching her muscles still around him and makes them both groan. 

"You'll be my death one day," he mumbles as he lifts his head to kiss her. She moans and forgets everything around her as his tongue sweeps past her lips, lazily exploring her mouth.

Eventually they have to break it for some much needed air and he rolls off of her, flopping onto his back next to her. 

Deprived of his warmth she curls up, watching him. 

He's too thin, she can count his ribs, too sharp in the cold light, and she silently promises herself to get some meat on his bones. 

Besides that, he's the perfect image of content - Benedict in the afterglow is a thing of utter beauty.

His hair is curling wildly around his head, sticking out every which way, black against the white pillow. 

The low light carves out those praised cheekbones, brings out the sharpness of his nose and chin, making his face look quite statuesque; calm and untouchable, only his softly raising chest belying the look. 

Even more so with the starlight shimmering on his ivory skin, casting silvery shadows over his slender body, enhancing his angelic tranquillity. 

She smiles and casts a glance above where the moon's slowly coming up, painting everything in a white light. 

The hotel wasn't on the list Karon had made; Benedict had spotted the sign for it on the way. 

' _Sleep under the stars_ ' it had said and he'd been barely able to hold back as he pointed it out to her. 

Of course she had agreed, not expecting too much though, probably only a painted ceiling or some light installations. 

She was more than surprised as they got into the room, blinded by the light of the sun streaming through the glass roof. 

Speechlessly she had stared. Where the ceiling should have been, spanned a huge window pane between the ordinary walls of the room. 

Benedict's childlike glee knew no limits, he had bounced through the room, rambling about how wonderfully brilliant this was. 

He had grabbed her hand, pulled her into bed and for a long while they just lay there, watching the sky turn darker and more colourful as the sun set. 

He even forgot dinner over it, too caught up in the exceptional concept of the hotel. 

They had dozed off together. It had been a long day for them, they had been driving up the coast all day and it finally caught up with them. 

She'd been woken by his gentle fingers, slowly undressing her in the darkness of the night. 

He knew how much she loved it: when she was barely awake and overly sensitive to his touch. When he was quiet, his hands, his mouth and his heart the only thing speaking of his deep love for her. 

Now he's quiet as well. His eyes are closed, a mystical smile is dancing over his lips - the one he always wears after sex.

The one nobody but her will ever see. 

Her fingers twitch with the urge to outline his lips, contour the sensual shape of his mouth,  memorising it as if it was the first time. Feeling the slight dampness of his kiss-swollen flesh against her fingertips, feeling the stretch of his delicate skin when his smile widens. 

Of course he has followed her thoughts and with one swift move he captures her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. He keeps kissing, up her fingers, one by one, his tongue flicking over the tips, making her moan quietly. 

Then he takes her hand and lays it on his chest, right over his - now slowly - beating heart, his own large hand on top. 

"Worth the detour?" he asks, fingertips caressing hers. 

"Yes." 

She's still watching him as an idea strikes her. 

"Don't move," she whispers and sits up, kneeling next to him. 

He watches her with wide eyes; he knows what she's about to do and anticipation flutters through his stomach like butterflies. 

With one quick move she unfolds her wings; they fill the entire room, brushing over the walls with a whispered huff. 

Instantly the silver light from above turns emerald, the shadows on Benedict's skin now moss green, dark and mysterious. 

Some white beams still find their way through the dense feathers. Gleams of molten mercury dancing over his tranquil body. 

"Beautiful," she whispers as she moves the majestic wings slowly, creating a stunning kaleidoscope of verdigris and silver shadows. 

His almond shaped eyes are attentive and sharp, and it gives him a cat like look.

Catching that thought he purrs, a low rich sound that seems to fill the room, echoes in her ears, and makes every hair on her body stand on end. 

It's one of the sexiest sounds he can make and he knows it. 

She lets the tips of one wing flutter over his shoulder, putting some effort in it - a tiny swat that only makes him chuckle. 

She glares at him but the amusement is clearly visible on her face. 

His hand reaches out, gently sliding his fingertips over her satiny feathers. 

"I've always wondered," he says, voice a bit gruff, "can you actually...you know...fly with these?" 

She tilts her head, contemplates her answer for a moment. 

"Yes," she eventually says, brushing both wing ends over his face, watching his eyes slide closed in pleasure. The hint of arousal that skitters through him makes her do it again. 

"But," she adds, her voice becoming stern, "that's not for anybody to see." 

There's something finite in her tone and he understands. He nods once, dropping the subject. 

"Come here," he says instead, reaching out for her and she lowers herself on top of him, his arms immediately around her midst, his lips searching hers. 

She sinks into his languid kiss, her quivering wings reflecting the feelings he evokes in her body and her soul. 

"Do you think we can have kids one day?" 

It's only hushed, could have gotten lost in their lazy kisses if it wasn't for the all encompassing longing in his heart. 

She knew this day would come, has been waiting for it for a while now. But she would've never brought it up herself. 

Knowing better than he himself how much he wants children one day, she has carefully avoided even thinking about it. 

But now with the stars blinking brightly above them, in the darkness of night where souls lay bare and dreams seem touchable, he can't help but ask. 

"Oh Benedict," she sighs, kissing him again, "I don't know." 

And she doesn't. It has never happened before. To none of the Guardians. Ever. 

"I don't know," she repeats, a deep sadness filling her as she feels the bitter sting of disappointment in him. 

It's the one thing he tried to hide from her but being the unguarded man he is, he hadn't been able to hide it for long. 

"It might be possible but I've never heard of it," she whispers, snuggling closer to him, wanting to take away the lingering sorrow that comes off him in lethargic waves. 

"There's no..." 

He interrupts, trying to hide the melancholy in his voice and his mind. 

"It's okay," he mutters, kissing the tip of her nose, "I reckon I was just curious. As long as I have you..." he hesitates for a moment, "and there are still other ways..." 

The sentence lingers in the air between them, suddenly taking up all the space. 

Does she want? She has thought about it every now and then. Of course there's adoption although she has a feeling that's not what he means. 

A surrogate then? But that would mean it would be only his; she's not sure if she could add anything from herself to such a process. 

It's frustrating to think about that and he feels it. 

Pushing aside his own feelings, he tips her head up so he can look her in the eyes. 

"I apologise. I didn't mean to sadden you. It's just... I've been thinking about that quite a bit... but we don't have to talk about it. At least not now." 

His smile is small but honest, his kiss is gentle and she lets his warm lips chase away the dark cloud over their heads. 

They keep kissing lazily, his hands running aimlessly over her back, ruffling feathers on the way and after a while his thoughts become hazy and random. 

She pulls the duvet over them and slides from his chest to curl around his side. She nuzzles his neck as he drifts into sleep, his arms still tight around her, holding her close. 

*

She can't sleep. 

And she doesn't want to disturb his much needed rest so she slips out of his arms and the bed, making sure he doesn't wake. 

He snuffles quietly as she pulls the duvet back over him and buries his face deeper into her abandoned pillow. 

It makes her smile - they both search each other even in their sleep. 

Her eyes linger on his sleeping face for another moment. He looks so incredibly young like this, the lines around eyes and mouth have vanished, and it makes him look very vulnerable. 

Something deep inside her twists, an ancient urge to protect him until her last breath. It's in her by default but never has been so strong that it takes her breath away. 

He evokes something so fierce, so burning in her that she only hopes it'll never break free - whoever would be on the receiving end would regret it eternally. 

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she slips into a pair of old jeans and the t-shirt he wore today. The smell of secretly smoked cigarettes is only faint yet it makes her frown. He tries to quit but never really manages. It's the one bad habit that makes her grumble when she notices. 

Underneath the smoke though is Benedict's own scent, a little harsh and so very male, so him, it makes her smile again.

She also takes one of his beloved cardigans and slips into it before she steps outside. 

Each room is on its own, all on ground level, gathered round in the middle of nowhere. There are no houses close-by, the street leading from the highway is small, fenced off with trees. 

Nothing disturbs the peace and quiet out here. 

It's cold, stars are sparkling brightly in the black sky, her breath forms white clouds in the clear air. 

Her bare feet start freezing and she shuffles over to the bench standing on the porch-like veranda, pulling her feet under her as soon as she sits down. 

For a while she just lets her eyes wander over the vast darkness above her, silently listing the names of the stars she can see. 

It's been a while since she's seen so many. Usually Benedict and she are in cities, their lights diminish the beauty of the night sky. But here, far away from any civilisation, they can shine. 

They're different to the ones she sees when they're home. 

In London, she instantly corrects herself, wondering for a second when London has become home. 

It's _his_ home, not hers. 

He is her home, no matter where they are. 

And yet whenever she thinks about the flat they share there, an indescribable warmth rushes through her. 

Of course it's partly his emotions she mirrors but she'd stopped differentiating a while ago. 

As much as he loves to travel, he's the happiest when he's in London. 

It's his safe haven away from fans and press, the one place his heart always yearns for when he's away. 

She understands that. His family and his friends are there, he grew up there, innumerable memories will always bind him to that city. 

He's got a restless mind, always buzzing and so full of energy but in their flat it slows down, sometimes even stops, revelling in the age old feeling of 'home'. 

It's the only place in the world where he really can be himself and she cherishes every second of it. 

She loves watching his face light up when he's with his friends, his family. His heart flows over with emotions when he's just sitting in his parents house, listening to them doting over his too long absence or scolding him lovingly that he's too thin again. 

She snickers as she thinks back to the one occasion his mother dragged her into the kitchen and handed her a book with all the recipes of his favourite dishes, making her swear to cook them for him so he'd 'fatten up a tad' as she put it.

Wanda adores her and it fills her with a quiet pride to have gained her trust. 

Parents are usually very wary. They always worry about their children no matter how grown up they are. They’ll always be kids for them, in need of protection. 

When Benedict first brought her home with him, introduced her to his parents, his mother had eyed her curiously; Esme forced herself to stay out of her mind, she wanted to be accepted without any interference. 

But Wanda surprised her - just like her son still surprises Esme. 

She had smiled at her, her eyes had sparkled and she had wrapped her into a tight hug. 

'You take good care of him,' she had said, not a question but a statement, certain and warm and it had made Esme swallow around a sudden lump in her throat. 

They had bonded that night, some sort of female understanding over the man they both loved. Each in her own way, yet united with the desire to keep him safe. 

Timothy had followed his wife's lead, hugged Esme and for a second she had caught his quiet pride of his son for having found such a lovely woman. 

She had to turn away to hide her smile; if he'd only knew who found whom. 

Of course they couldn't tell them how they'd really met, or what she really was. 

Being the honest man he was, he naturally did tell them what happened that night; they were both shocked to the bones and his mother broke out in tears as she heard about the incident. 

It took them a while to calm her down again and Esme had to retreat far into her own head to evade the overpowering emotions Wanda emitted. 

After she had calmed down, she had doted over him all evening, making him roll his eyes behind her back but Esme had felt the unconditional love for her and the relief that he was still here to witness it.

Telling his parents they had crossed paths afterwards, they only switched out a few details of how they met, making Wanda launch into another bone crushing hug at Esme who had to bite back tears at the overwhelming gratitude she felt. 

It had been quite the emotional night. 

Nevertheless, it had been wonderful to see him with his parents, seeing him settle back into being a son instead of the public person he was to everyone else. 

His parents are his rock in the storming sea of his rising success, they ground him, help him to find himself again under the layers he always puts on when he's not home.

The same goes for his friends – he'd be lost without them, needs them like he needs air to breathe.

Sadly he sees many of them not often enough but there's a handful he always checks in with when he's in London and has some spare time. 

And of course he introduced her to them all as soon as possible. 

With a melancholic smile Esme remembers the first time she'd met James. 

He was one of the first and he was very wary. 

The look he'd given her when she walked in behind Benedict made her skin crawl but she'd met his steely eyes, smiling gently. 

They had spent the afternoon together, having drinks at a private club before heading over to one of the fancy restaurants Benedict had wanted to take them. 

James' brown eyes had followed her every move and she had tried ignore them, had willed herself to stay out of his head; she really didn't want to know what he was thinking about her - his attitude towards her told her all she needed to know. 

Benedict had been blind to it, had happily chatted away about everything and nothing. 

During dinner he had left for a moment and James had leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

'Hurt him and I hurt you' he had hissed, spitting the words through gritted teeth. 

It had been quite dramatic but she had felt his urge, his need to make himself as clear as possible.

'I won't,' she'd replied calmly, holding his hard gaze, fully understanding his protectiveness. She knew how close they were, how much they had been through together. She knew he only wanted Benedict's best and how he wanted to avoid anyone to abuse his status and fame. 

There must have been something in her eyes because he had nodded slowly. 

He had still been watchful of her but at the end of the evening he had smiled carefully at her. 

'See you around.' 

There had been the hint of a question in it which didn't escape her attention. 

'See you around, James.' 

It had made him grin, the brief trace of his respect pierced through her shield. It would take a while to fully convince him that she wasn't playing with his best friend's heart but she knew it was worth the effort. 

It had taken two full years but as she predicted, it had been worth it. 

These days James is as close to her as a brother and they both share the fierce wish to protect him from everything that could harm Benedict's gentle heart. 

Same goes for the rest of his friends. 

They all love him without restriction, only wanting him to be safe, doing their best to make sure he's happy. 

As does she. More than anything else and yet there is the one thing she probably can't give him. 

She curls up tighter around herself, pulling the warm fabric of Benedict's cardigan closer around her. 

His words are still ringing in her head and as much as she tries, she can't shake them. 

Children. 

Of course she knows how desperately he wants them, it's the one thought that's always on his mind. Not always conscious, and he even tries to hide it but it's there. Buried in that brilliant brain of his, the one thing she doesn't know she can give him. 

She's seen him with kids and knows he would be an amazing father. Martin's and Amanda's children adore him, Adam's kids love their uncle Ben to pieces, as do all the other little ones in his circle of friends.  

His face always lightens up when they visit and he's getting that kind of glow around him that he usually only wears in bed with her. 

The untainted emotions he gives off when he's around children always makes her heart clench: they're not his yet he loves them with a force only excelled by the love he has for her. 

And there's nothing in the world she wants more than to see him happy. But this is the one thing she's unsure of achieving.

In all her eons of being a Guardian she's never heard of any of them being able to have children. 

She knows some stay with their guarded ones till the end but usually they return then and get  assigned a new one. 

Never has there been anyone who stayed back to take care of a child - their child. 

Sighing she pushes those thoughts back. It's futile to think about this. 

There's no-one she can ask, she's on her own for the time being. 

They could try, of course. But deep down inside her is that little voice, telling her that if it  was  possible, it would have happened already. 

They’ve never used contraception, it just isn't necessary. 

Groaning she stands; her mind just doesn't want to be quiet and she fears she's waking him. 

Stepping down from the porch she starts walking; maybe the cold ground will help her clear her head. 

The moon has vanished and the sky at the horizon starts lighting up; sunrise isn't that far away, a few early birds are hesitantly chirping in the quiet air. 

It's going to be another wonderful day, just him and her on the road. 

They don't really have a destination, don't have places to be or schedules to meet. Just driving where the road leads them. 

Although there are a few places, Benedict would like to visit and too many things he wants to do for the short amount of time they have. 

But they will try and squeeze in as much as possible. 

Today they're going to drive to a small airfield only a few miles down the road. 

She shakes her head, smiling despite herself.

He's such an adrenaline junkie. 

"'m not," she hears faintly in her head. 

She looks up and finds herself back at the porch, having wandered back during her musings. 

Benedict leans against the doorframe, wearing only pants and a sleepy expression on his face. 

She can see him shivering in the cold air and shakes her head at him. 

"Yes, you are. Go back to bed, it's freezing," she says, walking up the steps to him. 

"Bed's too empty without you," he murmurs as he wraps her arms around her. Despite the goosebumps covering his skin, he's warm, his limps still pliant and the unmistakable bulge in his pants makes her grind against him. 

He groans lowly, pressing her closer to him, his sleepy warmth becoming rather heated. 

"You're insatiable," she whispers as he leans down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss. 

"Hmmm yes I am," he mutters, his hands on her back gripping tighter, his intentions as clear as day. 

"Let's go back to bed and I’ll show you how much..." 

Not letting go of each other they stumble back inside, kicking the door shut behind them while the sun slowly rises over the horizon.  

*

She's sitting on a bench beside the airfield, observing the sky. 

The cold of the morning gave way to a warm autumn day, the sun's beams doing their best to keep winter away just a bit longer. 

Wrapped up in his warm coat she waits. 

His spirits are high, she can still feel him, faint but there, somewhere above her, his heart beating wildly. 

Anxiety and adrenaline balance each other while he's getting ready. 

His mind is wide open, letting her be part of his jump, sharing this extraordinary experience. 

For a second she frowns; it's one of those moments he's truly showing his strength, reminding her that she ought to examine his abilities. 

She sometimes forgets about it, and a part of her knows exactly that she's doing it on purpose, ignoring the issue.

The consequences can be terrifying and she's not certain how she feels about it. 

A loud scream tears her out of her musings, and without realising she's on her feet, her gaze  frantically searching the blue sky. 

There. A tiny black dot, quickly becoming bigger. 

His untamed ecstasy is mind blowing and she stumbles back, falling heavily on her seat, panting. 

Blood's rushing loudly through her veins - or is it his? She can't tell, can't divide between her or his emotions anymore. 

She doesn't care. 

Wild joy is coursing through him as he falls faster and faster, wind rushing past his ears, the body of the instructor pressed reassuringly against his back. 

Then his stomach lurches as he pulls the string and they jerk up as the parachute opens, pulling them back into the endless sky. 

Spellbound she watches them sail above her head, slowing descending towards the earth. 

His mind's a complete mess, blurry images of the landscape and a whirring frenzy of joy, excitement, and underneath it all, the pure, raw rapture of being alive. 

Because that's what this is all about: the adrenaline rush, the dance on the edge, the glimpses at the other side, only to be rewarded with the all encompassing feeling of being alive. Breathing, feeling the heart pumping blood through his veins, everything around him overly sharp and clear.

To live. 

She holds her breath when they eventually touch down, collapsing onto the ground in a heap of limbs and silky fabric. 

Slowly she stands and walks over on wobbly legs, the adrenaline in his blood still buzzing wildly through hers as well. 

"Well done, Benedict," she hears the instructor say as he detangles himself from all the cords, quickly jumping to his feet. 

The man in question lays on his back, a face splitting wide grin on his lips, all fours spread onto the cold earth. 

"Thank you," he breathes, beaming like the sun. 

"You okay?" Esme asks, eyeing him carefully.

"Never been better!" he says, his grin going impossibly wider. 

"Take as much time as you need," the instructor says as he wraps up the parachute, "sometimes it takes a bit to come back to earth. Literally..." 

He grins at Esme and walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

"God, that was fucking incredible," Benedict pants as he heaves himself up. He falls back down and the utterly adorable look on his confused face makes her laugh out loud. 

"Come here, you," she grins, holding out her hands to pull him up. 

With some effort she gets him to his feet only to be swooped up by him. 

He pulls her into his arms, his mouth finding hers within a heartbeat. 

The kiss is hard and downright filthy, his hands all over her and she can feel the hot hardness in his trousers pressing against her groin. 

"God, I want to fuck you right here," he growls in her ear, all low voice and needy tone. 

"Jesus," she moans, his words immediately making her knees weak. 

"Benedict," he deadpans but his voice has dropped at least two octaves, a sure sign that he's highly aroused. 

"Silly man," she grumbles but his burning lips on hers making it hard to think right now. 

"Not...here," she moans between kisses, pushing him away even though it's almost impossible. 

His eyes are dark and glued to her, the thoughts in his head so incredibly dirty she can't even move. 

Her entire body is throbbing with need and she desperately tries to think of some place where they can go. 

"Car. Now," Benedict says, his eyes never leaving her as he jerks his head towards their rental. 

She wants to object. They're in public, there are people all around them and yet she’s already  walking backwards, unable to tear her eyes away from him. 

He stalks her, his entire body tense as a string on a bow, ready to be fired, and she knows with  absolute certainty that one touch will make him go off like a bomb.

Somehow they reach the car and she fumbles for the keys in her pocket. 

It isn't easy with Benedict's burning eyes on her. His more and more explicit thoughts make her moan helplessly in anticipation. 

The grin he gives her as she finally manages to unlock the car, is dangerous and dirty.

"In," he grunts, already unzipping his jacket, "backseat." 

She swallows hard.

It's rare that he shows this side but when he does it wipes her brain and pure instinct kicks in. 

Throwing open the backdoor, she opens her own jacket, tossing it carelessly behind her. Backwards she crawls inside the spacious car, internally praising Karon for renting them a car this large. 

"Don't you dare think about her now," his voice in her head hisses darkly, making her shiver. 

"Then get your ass in here," she replies, only faintly surprised at the roughness in her own tone. 

He growls again, the sound filling the small room of the car, turning her insides into jelly. 

She hasn't even reached the back of the other door before he's all over her, kissing her frantically, not caring that the door is still open or that the tinted windows can't really hide what's about to happen. 

"Close...the...door," she pants against his heated lips, trying to push him back so she can get rid of her jumper. 

He awkwardly turns, slamming the door shut and turns back to her. 

Heavily breathing he just kneels there for a moment, his black eyes roaming hungrily over her equally heaving chest. 

Faintly she catches a glimpse at his thoughts, which make her smile slyly at him. 

"You've got a fucking dirty mind there," she whispers, opening the button and the fly on her jeans and wiggles out of them. 

He gasps as she slips a hand in her panties, biting her lips as she feels the wetness between her legs. 

It only takes one raised eyebrow and his shaking hands are on his own jeans, shoving them down.  

He almost throws himself on her, kissing her fiercely while his hands push her thighs apart, making her cry out as she feels his hot hardness against the sensitive skin. She lets out another cry, longer and louder as he pushes inside her, sliding effortlessly into her wet heat. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters breathlessly before he sets a punishing pace. His hips slap hard against her inner thighs, his fingers fumbling between their sweating bodies until he finds her sweet spot, rubbing it mercilessly. 

She tries to muffle her cries in his shoulder, biting through the jumper he's still wearing, her fingers searching for bare skin. 

His motions are already getting messy; he's close but he's determined to take her with him, make them both fall apart together. 

He pants against her mouth, biting her lower lip while his long dexterous fingers work faster and faster in time with his uncontrolled thrusts. 

The overwhelming sensations he causes with his body, his hands and his lips are driving her mad. Her mind is blank, the only thing she's aware of are his heated motions inside her, his grunted moans and the rough touch of his fingers. 

She clings to him, her hands finally finding slick skin and she digs her fingernails deep into his back, making him buck harder into her. His muscles beneath her palms are clenching and she can smell him, bitter and earthy, almost primal and she buries her face in his sweaty neck, licking and biting at his skin. 

He's close to losing it, his entire body is shaking so heavily he almost slips out of her. Cursing he grabs her hips, his fingers grasping so hard she knows she'll have bruises there later, and holds her tight. 

His head drops low, his thrusts are so rough it almost hurts. 

Almost. 

And yet it's still not enough. 

With a silent cry she arches up, pressing her pelvis against his, clenching her inner muscles around his rapidly moving cock. Her hands slide down his back and settle on his arse, pulling him as deep as possible. 

Suddenly he yells out, instantly muffling it in a sloppy kiss and she feels him coming inside her, violent and uncontrollable. 

His mouth is pressed against hers, his breath comes in quick shallow pants, mingling with her own ragged breath. Faintly she feels his nails, digging into her flesh, a sharp pain shooting through her body. 

"Come," he demands in a voice that sounds like rolling thunder, and she does. 

Her orgasm ripples through her with a force that she sees stars behind her closed eyes. Her body seems to dissolve, dissipate into its atoms and with a cry she clutches to Benedict's strong body, holding on as if her life depends on it. 

He's holding her tightly as they both revel in the afterglow, softly moaning against each other's lips.

Very slowly they calm down again, their hammering hearts only gradually slowing as they lay there, Benedict's weight anchoring her while she's still quivering. 

"You okay?" he asks after a while, his voice gravelly and husky. 

She hums, too weary for proper words but as she catches a glimpse at his attempt to apologise, she lays a shaking finger on his damp lips. 

The touch makes her groan again, another wave of heated bliss washing over her. 

She abandons words in favour of using her mind. 

"Don't you fucking dare to apologise." 

It's all she can muster up but she puts as much force into it as possible. His mouth, already open, closes again, his eyes twinkling and he nods quickly. 

"Not saying a word," he thinks quietly, smiling lopsidedly at her. 

He sags down on her, sliding now gentle fingers in her hair, cradling her close as he leans in to kiss her softly. 

Then his head drops down on her shoulder and he's mouthing kisses against her neck, making her shiver. 

They're quiet, each trying to come down from the utter high they've been on. Esme can hear the people outside, chatting loudly, their voices floating embodied against the windows only to vanish again. 

Benedict squirms and with a curse he slips off her, sitting up and rubbing his leg. 

"Cramp," he says, sounding so utterly petulant it makes her laugh heartily. 

"Oh, I'm glad my discomfort amuses you." 

He glares at her but his tone is light and she can make out the twitching muscles around his lips. 

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done," she wheezes between giggles. 

"Hey! That wasn't ridiculous..." he counters, "that was..." 

Frowning he tries to find words only to give up quickly and sends an image of her blissful face instead. Blushing she sits up, pulling up her trousers again. 

He does the same and then leans back in the seat, watching her with such an intense expression that she blushes even more. 

His eyes wander over her, drinking in her appearance, memorising every little detail: her disheveled hair, the smudged eyeliner, her reddened lips, the bite marks he left on her neck, her still slightly unsteady hands as she straightens her jumper. 

"How do I deserve you?" he suddenly asks, his features softening as he says it, "what God do I have to thank to have you in my life?" 

The sudden shift in the atmosphere makes her freeze and as she meets his eyes, the all consuming love on his face and in his mind makes her well up. 

He's instantly by her side, soothing hands wiping away the tears running down her cheeks.

"Geez, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry," he murmurs in her hair, plastering kisses on her head and over her face. 

She shakes her head, her throat is closing up and she struggles to find words. 

"No no, it's okay, it's just...shit, I just don't know," she wipes at her face, looking up in his concerned eyes. 

"Too much, huh?" he asks, carefully shielding of his mind so she can collect herself.

"A bit, yeah," she admits, smiling weakly at him. 

He sends a gentle wave of apology, holding her tightly, his hands drawing calming circles over her back. 

"I'm starving," he mumbles after a while and she chuckles softly. 

"Then lets get you something to eat." 

Making sure they're presentable they climb out of the car and get into the front. 

"I think I saw a pub just down the road," he says lightly as he starts the engine. 

"Sounds good to me." 

"You'll feel better after you've got something in your stomach." 

She nods absently. 

"Probably." 

He glances at her but doesn't say anything as he steers the car in direction of the road. 

*

Half an hour later they sit side by side in a secluded booth, waiting for their food. 

It's still early so it's quite empty, only a handful people are sitting by the window, ignoring the two of them. 

Esme was worried that Benedict would attract attention wherever they went but his usual disguise of hat and shades seems to help avoiding too many looks. 

She's glad about it. Permanently being alert and watchful of their surroundings is wearing them both out. 

"Are you alright, Love?" Benedict asks quietly, his hand searching hers. 

"Hm?" 

"You seem awfully absent." 

She shakes her head, squeezing his hand. 

"Just tired." 

"Did I wear you out already," he grins cheekily, making her smile. 

"Maybe." 

Pulling up her hand to his lips, he kisses her knuckles. 

"Sorry." 

There's something in his tone that makes her look up. His slanted eyes are watching her closely and she has the feeling that he's not joking anymore. 

"Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for," she replies softly, leaning in to kiss him. 

Their waitress arrives with their food and they let go of each other to eat. 

They don't talk much and both have shut down their minds. Sometimes they need it; everyone needs to have some alone time and in their case even more so. 

"So," Benedict asks, wiping his plate with a piece of bread, "what do you want to do next?" 

She leans back, taking a sip of her drink, considering. 

"Benedict, we need to work on your shields," she says after a moment, sighing at the long face he makes. 

"That's not what I expected." 

"I know but your mind is getting stronger every day and your ability to catch other people’s thoughts is scaring me a little." 

He shrugs. 

"That was just once or twice and only Karon. You said, it might happen when someone's close enough to me. I can read your mind only when you let me." 

She shakes her head.  

"That's not an issue, _our_ connection is special. What worries me is that your range is getting wider. I could feel you this morning." 

"I really hope so," he teases, images of their entangled bodies flicking through his head, making her smile briefly. 

"Not that, Silly. When you where on that airplane. Up in the sky." 

It takes a moment for him to understand. 

"Oh? Bit not good then?" 

She rolls her eyes and swats his shoulder. 

"Can you stay serious for a second here?" 

"Sorry. So what exactly are you saying? That...what?" 

"Your mind's becoming an issue, basically." 

He's shocked into silence, staring at her. 

"What? I'm dangerous now?" 

"No, my heart. At least not to anybody else. Yet." 

He inhales sharply, his body tensing beside her. 

"Yet?" he repeats taken aback. 

"Yes. I don't know how or why. I only know that it’s never happened before. You're supposed to only be getting me. As in my thoughts, my feelings. That's it. And yet here we are, with me getting far too much of you and vice versa. Benedict, did you hear me while you were up there? Could you feel me?" 

He runs a hand over his neck, thinking. 

"I'm not sure," he says hesitantly, "I think so. There was...something. Could've been you. Were you worried? And excited at the same time?" 

She nods slowly.

"Yes. And I'm certain, I was only reflecting your own emotions back to you. See what I mean? It's rare to feel that clearly when one's close-by. Being that far away from each other, you shouldn't feel anything but yourself." 

"I see," he murmurs, ruffling a hand through his hair before he looks up again. 

"So we need to practice." 

It's not a question and a sudden rush of pride washes over her. 

He's so damn clever, his mind so sharp. 

"It might help to establish how strong you really are." 

"Isn't that a risk also? I mean, if we...if you teach me how to use a connection like ours, what keeps me from using it on anyone else?" 

His voice is hard, with a hint of steel in it. 

It makes her smile. She reaches out and lays a hand on his cheek, his skin warm and smooth beneath her cold fingers. 

"Because you wouldn't. You think you're bad-ass every now and then but you're really not. You're the most caring, most reasonable person I know. And believe me, I know quite a few. No, my darling, you would not use anything at all against anybody." 

His eyes narrow, flashing little blue sparks at her. 

"Paparazzi," he snarls. 

She laughs, part of her tension leaving her. 

"They'd deserve it. But no, not even on those bloodhounds. You're a good man, you wouldn't." 

He joins her soft chuckles, the sound of it soothing on her somewhat frayed nerves. 

"We only need to make sure you don't use any possible powers by accident. You know, if you get angry..." 

"I rarely get really angry," he throws in, still smiling. 

"I know but you have a tendency to get impatient rather quickly..." 

He admits defeat. 

"That is true. Okay, when do we start?" 

She's once again baffled by him. As soon as there's something new, a new project, a new challenge, he goes for it. Straight away and highly concentrated, throwing himself into it with everything he has, wanting to give his best. 

"You're incredible," she murmurs, caressing his arm that lays between them on the table. 

He radiates a muted pride, her words only motivating him more. 

She casts a look around before she catches his eyes, feeling the eagerness filling him now. 

"The woman behind the counter. Can you read her?" 

"I can try." 

"Careful. You don't want her to notice. Just try to get what she feels." 

Benedict's shoulders square and his gaze locks on the back of the woman, puttering around in the back of the pub.

Esme feels how he gathers all his concentration, opening his mind wide. 

Hastily she adds a protective layer around it, keeping everyone else away - just in case. 

He's so eager, he only focuses on one thing at a time, forgetting that he’s just made himself very vulnerable. 

After a few minutes he exhales, tearing his eyes away, his shoulders sagging. 

"Nothing," he says, sounding disappointed. 

Esme hides the relief but keeps pushing; sometimes it's gender specific, women read their own gender better and men their male equals. 

"Okay, try the man in the corner." 

He tries again, taking his time but eventually closes off his mind, slouching into the leather of his seat. 

"Not a bit." 

"That is actually a good thing, Benedict," she says, frowning as she picks up the trace of failure running through him. 

"Hey, that is good. It means, it's probably just us and those who are really close to you. Don't beat yourself up, for Christ's sake, it’s good news."

She lifts his chin, searching his gaze. 

Shrugging he leans in, kissing her quickly.

"Just feels as if... don't know, I failed or something." 

"God no! Stop that right away." 

A thought occurs and she leans back. 

"Try me." 

He laughs. 

"Darling, that's not even..." 

She interrupts him.

"No, try me." 

Crossing her arms she leans further away from him, putting some distance between them, closing her mind off completely, pulling up every last boundary. 

Frowning at her he shakes his head but sits back as well. 

They stare at each other, his blue gaze locked with her green eyes. 

"Alright," he murmurs as he starts to focus. 

She can feel him, hesitant at first but quickly using more force. After a few minutes he's brutally attacking her walls, clawing at them with sharp nails and wild determination. 

His face is contorted, hard lines around his eyes and his mouth, his nostrils flaring as he keeps trying. His breathe hitches, his heart's pounding; she can see the veins on his neck pulsating. 

Eventually he lets go and his features instantly relax, the deep wrinkles on his face vanish. 

He leans back, eyeing her curiously and his voice is soft. 

"So you really have to let me, huh?" 

She nods wordlessly, a crooked smile dancing over her lips. 

"And you do," he whispers, a sudden rush of emotions coursing through him.

“Every single day,” she replies quietly.

His hand slides into her hair and pulls her close, his breath ghosting over her face. 

"Thank you," he mumbles before he claims her lips in a languid kiss. It's slow and warm and intense even in its briefness. 

When he lets go his eyes are shining brightly, blue and green and gold through the dampness in them. 

He presses his forehead against hers and once again, she's rendered speechless by the depth and intensity of his love for her. It fills her body, races along her nerves, makes her fingertips tingle and her toes curl in pleasure. 

"Perhaps we should leave," he says huskily, his fingers leaving a burning trail on her suddenly oversensitive skin, making her shiver. 

"Perhaps that's a really good idea." 

Without taking his eyes off her, he stands, watching closely as she does the same. 

Their hands entwine as they walk towards the door, blind to everything around them but the other one. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I TRY to update regularly but RL is quite annoying aka gets in the way of writing so bear with me.  
> Also, if you have any questions, suggestions etc. don't be shy and shoot. I'm still figuring out their universe and even tho I know where it will end, if it gets too confusing, let me know. *I* know them and I try my best to bring it across but I'm sure AU's like this might need some explanations.  
> So don't be afraid to ask or criticize if there's anything unclear.


	4. Chapter 4

It's late as they stumble out of the airport, sleep's dragging heavily on them both.

Esme pulls her suitcase behind her, fighting the overwhelming urge to just drop it and leave it right there.

"Almost home," echoes in her head and despite her weariness she quirks a smile.

The bright lights hurt her eyes and she squints at Benedict who steps onto the curb, waving a cab.

"Just a little bit longer," he mutters, opening the door of the car for her. She slumps into the seat, trying to ignore the oncoming headache.

He's helping the cabbie with their luggage and then the door opens and his arm is around her, pulling her against his chest.

Huddled together they watch the city fly past, the usual brightness dimmed by the night.

Sometimes even London sleeps.

Her lids flutter and with a sigh she sinks further into Benedict's embrace.

She jerks awake as he shakes her shoulder.

"We're here," he says, relief lacing his words, "come."

She can't recall how she got out of the cab or up the stairs. Benedict opens the door to their flat, letting their suitcases fall right there in the hallway.

"Welcome home," he says, closing the door behind them.

She instantly starts for the bedroom, shedding her clothes on the way and falls face first into the pillows.

The sheets are fresh; Benedict's mum must've been over to change them.

Groaning happily she crawls under the duvet, barely noticing as the mattress dips beside her.

A long, alleviated grunt tells her everything about Benedict's own state.

Blindly she reaches out, fingertips grazing naked flesh and with a sigh she curls up around him.

"G'night," she mumbles, already half asleep.

Then she doesn't know anything any more.

*

She wakes to bright sunlight, streaming in through the big windows and with a huff she hides her face in her pillow.

Her entire body hurts, she can feel every single bone and muscle and her mind is a jumble of incoherent images.

She wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts into the bedroom, making her mouth water.

"Rise and shine, my love."

She curses loudly which only makes him snicker and she can clearly imagine his face, all lovely wrinkles and cheeky twinkles in his eyes.

"I hate you," she grumbles into the duvet.

Slowly pushing it away she sits up, her body protesting heavily.

"No you don't. I have coffee," he giggles, pausing theatrically, "...and pancakes."

"Uh, you're an evil evil man."

Muttering under her breath she heaves herself out of bed and shuffles in the direction of the kitchen, grabbing her robe on the way.

The lights are even brighter than in the bedroom and she squeezes her burning eyes shut.

His warm laughter envelops her and she hears him moving around and then a hot mug is pressed into her hands.

"Morning," he says, kissing her nose, "or rather afternoon that is."

She makes a noncommittal sound, carefully sipping at the coffee.

It's hot and sweet and slowly wakes her spirits.

"Pancakes!" she demands grumpily, stumbling over to the table, falling inelegantly on a chair.

"Bossy woman."

But there's the sound of plates and then the heavenly smell of freshly made pancakes.

She sticks out her tongue in his general direction.

Blinking heavy lids open she glances down and her stomach growls loudly as she sees the fluffy gold brown delicacies in front of her.

"Good boy," she hums, abandoning her mug in favour of digging into the food.

He's rolling her eyes at her, silent adoration surrounding him like an aura.

"Why are you even up?" she asks through a mouthful of pancakes.

She hears rather than sees him shrug as he sits down opposite of her.

"Couldn't sleep any more."

"You're strange."

He chuckles lowly.

"I suppose I am. But you like it. Now eat your breakfast."

"Yes Sir."

Silence falls over them, amiable and calm like a cozy blanket, keeping her in a state of half-sleep.

Eventually she feels more awake, nursing her third cup of coffee.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks eventually, knowing she's more coherent now.

"Like the dead," she admits, smiling at him, and for the first time noticing his appearance.

He's wearing old comfortable tracking bottoms and a thin shirt, one bare foot tucked under his leg. His clear eyes are watching her; they shimmer green today.

His hair's still a bit wet from the shower he took early and stands up in every which direction. There's a rest of sunburn on his ears and on his nose, the skin too rosy and very sensitive.

His glasses have slipped down his nose and he's watching her over the black rim, looking a little like a confused professor with them and his messy curls.

She giggles at that thought.

"Hey," he objects amused, pushing the glasses back up, glaring sternly at her.

It only makes her laugh even more and his delight bounces off the walls in room, filling the space with a quiet joy.

She can almost see his content ease, making his skin glow golden - he emits the serenity of a man well-rested.

"And you?" she asks, emptying her cup and he refills it without asking.

"Like a baby. Feels damn good to be home again, sleeping in my own bed."

She hums in agreement, letting the warmth in the kitchen lull her in again.

They don't have anywhere to be for at least a few days, they can rest, get over the jet-lag, sleep in.

"Love, you've just slept almost all day," he interrupts her thoughts, folding the paper he'd been reading.

"And I'll be going straight back to bed," she shoots back, winking at him, "care to join me?"

He raises a questioning eyebrow at her, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Why would I do that? I just got up..."

She stands and stretches, the robe sliding open, revealing bits of her naked stomach.

"Och, maybe jet-lag is stronger than you thought."

With that said, she turns and slowly walks back towards the bedroom, feeling his eyes on her back, drinking in her every move.

"I need a shower first," she calls over her shoulder, biting back a chuckle as she hears his chair tumble to the ground as he jumps to his feet.

Dropping the robe on the floor in the bedroom, she walks into the bathroom, turning on the water.

His strong arms slide around her from behind, his face pressing between her shoulder-blades, mouthing gentle kisses over her skin.

She hums happily and leans against his chest, noticing that he's also naked. His large hands caress the soft skin of her stomach, his fingers strong and steady.

He keeps kissing her, trailing a line over her shoulders and back to her neck, grazing his teeth gently over her throat. Suddenly he pulls her back, tight against his body, sucking a mark on her tender flesh.

She moans, pushing her arse against his quickly hardening erection.

"God," he groans, moving his hips in slow circles, his breath quickening.

"Shower," she huffs, moving forward to step under the water.

It's hot and she gasps as it hits her skin.

He's still holding on to her, not wanting to let go at all.

She turns in his arms, pushing her hands into his hair and pulls him down into a searing kiss.

It's been so long now, they've shared more kisses than she can count and yet, everyone feels like their first, makes the blood in her veins boil, heightens all her senses, shuts down her mind.

Nothing exists but his lips, his eager tongue, his nibbling teeth.

She can lose herself entirely in his kiss, and she does.

Faintly she notices the water splattering down on her, running down her back, wetting his face but it only makes the kiss much more sensual.

He makes quiet little noises that are echoing unheard in the room. She hears them in her head though, along with the rising need that courses through his body.

She tangles her fingers in his wet hair, pulling him back and he whines, trying to reach her mouth again.

Shaking her head she takes a step back, letting go of his hair.

"Wait," she insists, the wish to wash away the overly long travel stronger than the unspoken promises in his stormy eyes.

His shoulders slump and he nods even though his gaze never leaves her as she starts washing her hair, sighing happily.

"Let me," his deep baritone murmurs in her ear and before she can react his hands have pushed hers away. Her eyes fall closed, her head sinks against his chest as he starts massaging her head. His nimble fingers slide effortlessly over her scalp, applying just the right pressure, and she feels as if she's floating.

Everything seems far away, only his warm hands keeping her grounded, his toned body her only anchor.

Soapy palms run over her head, her neck and her shoulders, chasing pleasant shivers down her spine before they close gently around her breasts, making her gasp.

"God, I love it when you're all sleepy," he murmurs, biting carefully at her earlobe, his palms rubbing harder over her nipples and she cries out as he bends her back, his lips replacing his hands. His mouth is soft, his tongue maddeningly slow, circling one nipple and as he very carefully bites down, she arches against him, grinding against his hard erection.

His head falls back, exposing that beautiful pale throat of his, his broken moans now loud in the small space of the shower stall.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, spinning her around so her back is pressed against his heaving torso. She can feel his ribs, feel his heart pounding, feel the muscles flex as he splays one hand over her neck, pushing her upper body gradually lower.

Knowing what he's about to do, she grasps blindly for the shower rod, steadying herself as much as possible on the slick tiles.

The sounds he's making are going straight between her legs and wordlessly she urges him on to just do it.

He's still caressing her back, taking his time but he's getting impatient, his hands agitated, his pulse racing.

"God, look at you," he whispers, leaning down to kiss her lower back, one hand sliding down to stroke himself hard.

"My beautiful angel, my gorgeous sentinel..."

His mutterings become voiceless as he guides himself closer to where she so desperately needs him. He parts her, sliding his achingly hard cock inside her with such tenderness that her knees tremble and she almost slips.

His free arm wraps around her instantly, keeping her steady. She is still bend over, clinging to the cool metal in her hand but he pulls her hips closer, angling himself just enough to thrust all the way inside her.

She keens loudly, clenching around him, making him shudder heavily in return.

His motions are slow yet deep, wanting to make her feel every inch of his heated hardness. It's dreamlike, waves of pleasure rushing through her body with every thrust, every push he makes.

He's whispering words she doesn't understand but she doesn't have to. His voice is caressing her very soul, filling every cell of her body with a dire need.

The low purrs and the raspy moans leaving his lips are maddening, and combined with the hypnotic and tidal moves deep inside her, it's driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly one of his large hands are between her legs, slipping past her flesh, gently touching her, rubbing over that highly sensitive nub, making her cry out over and over again.

And as he slips his hand further down and touches wet skin, feels her flesh pulsing around him, the blood rushing under the surface, she surrenders completely.

She falls apart in his arms, his heated body shaking behind her as she comes, yelling his name, convulsing around him as he follows, his arm around her painfully tight. His teeth sink into her shoulder, muffling his own cries as he spills his release, his dark moans against her skin doubling the ecstasy overwhelming her.

They're both shaking helplessly, their breaths loud over the still running water.

He is bent over her back, and his weight is too much for her.

Her knees give out and they tumble to the ground, collapsing onto the tiles in a heap of quivering wet limbs.

He shuffles closer, burying his face in her dripping hair, still holding on to her, dropping sloppy kisses wherever he can.

She's gasping for air, her heart feels as if it wants to jump out of her chest and everything has become a bit blurry around the edges.

He murmurs something but she can't quite catch it, her head is swimming, the only constancy his incredible warmth and his strong hold on her.

"Come, my heart, lets get you back to bed," he rumbles, scrambling to his feet. He helps her up, guides her under the slowly cooling water to rinse the rest of the shampoo out of her hair. He quickly does the same and then turns the water off.

She's shivering as he opens the door but he immediately wraps her into a fluffy towel, drying her off effectively before he leads her back into the bedroom.

"Lie down."

Mechanically she does what he says, curling up on the cool sheets.

He crawls into bed behind her, gathering her in his arms and pulls the duvet over them.

His "sleep now" barely registers as she's already slipping into darkness, his loving mind caressing her as she falls asleep.

*

It takes her three days to get back on track; he's on London-time after only one.

"I'm used to it," he laughs when she complains about it, "comes with the job."

He's always quick at settling into the current timezone, adjusts incredibly fast. It's something she envies him for. It always takes her ages to arrive, be it away or back home.

Right now he enjoys the quiet time they have, sleeping in, lazying around in bed till noon, eating late and going to bed whenever they feel sleepy.

It's one of her favourite times, just him and her, at home.

Of course, friends and family phoned as soon as they heard that he was back and he's already got a few evenings filled up with invitations and dinners.

But for now, he's content with staying in, slowly settling back into normal life after an exciting holiday.

It's been a fantastic time.

After that skydive, they kept driving up the coast, visited Canberra and Sydney. He did a bridge climb which gave him such an adrenaline rush, they didn't leave their room for two days.

They spent a few days in one of the many National Parks, just wandering around, enjoying the variety of nature and talking for hours.

In Newcastle he swam with sharks and tried to teach her how to surf - a total failure.

She smirks when she thinks back at his millionth attempt to show her. She just wasn't made for water and gave up very quickly, happy to watch him dive into the waves with unbridled enthusiasm.

They made it all the way up to Brisbane before they had to head back to Adelaide to catch their flights back to England. They had left with an aching heart and the silent promise to come back soon.

The soft ring of the doorbell tears her out of her thoughts.

Confused she looks up.

"Who's that?"

Benedict shrugs, taking off his glasses and folds his newspaper away.

"I have no idea."

Getting up, he walks into the hall to open the door.

Only seconds later she catches the warm wisp of a friendly hug and smiles.

She stands and prepares a third mug, setting the coffee pot on the table.

"Morning Lazy, are you decent?"

Grinning she fills the mug.

"Yes, I am. Good morning to you too, James."

James' gentle aura immediately fills the room, the ever present music filling his minds is toned down today but nevertheless filling her heart with joy.

It is one of those rare phenomenons only artists show. Usually it's the musical branch but every now and then even the painters show those manifestations: the faint, barely to see, signs of their doings. Sometimes it's the pictures they painted or want to paint. She can see the images floating around their heads, sometimes enveloping their entire bodies like a second skin.

But she really loves the musicians, the pianists in particular.

Their aura is spectacular. Notes are constantly dancing around them, fluttering about like tiny butterflies, sometimes black and bold, sometimes small and fragile but always there.

When she first met James, she didn't notice it due to his aversion against her.

Over time his guard lowered and after a few months she saw it for the first time, heard the music in his head, saw the notes buzzing around him like bees.

And most importantly, she felt the undying passion the man had for his art.

She didn't even have to go into his head: it poured out of him, quiet yet constant, filling every room, every space and the hearts of everyone around him with it.

It's one of the most magnificent spectacles to witness.

The first time she heard him play it brought tears to her eyes. She had heard many great musicians in her time, but James played with such an unwavering fervour and an untamed love, it touched something deep in her soul.

And even though he was still  very watchful around her, she couldn't help but crave his company.

The feeling when he is around is indescribable - the mood lifts, somehow brightens; it is as if the sun's coming out.

Esme once showed Benedict what she sees when James's around. He couldn't stop smiling for hours.

He and James have known each other for so long and he always loved him like a brother but feeling what James feels when he's utterly absorbed in his playing, only deepens their friendship.

Today his mind is filled with happy little tingles, underlined by the gentle hum of a Chopin piece - Esme's favourite.

"What are you doing here, man?" Benedict asks as he sits back down, waving a hand at James to make himself at home.

"Was in the area and wanted to check on you two. How were the holidays? Did he try to kill himself again?"

The last question is directed as Esme who only smiles.

"You know him," she says, evading Benedict's swat at her.

James chuckles and nods.

"Yeah, I do."

Now Benedict glares at him.

"If you don't stop, I'll kick you out, man."

"No you won't because I bring gifts," James says, grinning widely at him.

Benedict only raises an eyebrow at him but he's intrigued.

"Gifts, eh?"

James nods and pulls two tickets out of his pocket.

"Tonight. Special VIP seats for you two."

Handing the tickets over to Benedict, his face lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh, that's wonderful, thank you, James."

Esme steps closer and looks over his shoulder, her eyes going wide.

"Royal Albert Hall?"

The smile on James' face couldn't be more smug and it's just now that Esme catches the quiet pride he emits.

"Making it to the top then, huh?"

Benedict's own pride of his friend is almost palpable and for a second Esme feels like an intruder.

James leans back in his seat, still smiling widely.

"Now then, tell me all about Australia. Did you hug a koala bear?"

Esme picks the tickets out of Benedict's hand and sneaks out of the kitchen to leave the two friends alone.

They have lots to talk about and they don't need her.

*

After a long hot shower she gets dressed, leisurely going through her wardrobe, considering what she wants to wear for the concert tonight.

James and Benedict have been chatting amiably for a while now, their voices a low buzz in the back of her head, comforting and calm.

Suddenly she feels the atmosphere in the kitchen change dramatically.

There's a dissonance in Benedict's thoughts, instantly alerting her.

She stops in her doings and listens.

Her heart cringes painfully as she realises the topic of their conversation.

"So she can't... Oh Ben, I'm so sorry."

The deep emotion in James' words bring tears to her eyes and she has to sit down, taking a deep steadying breath.

She knows she shouldn't eavesdrop, this is a conversation only between them but she can't help it.

Benedict's tone is strained even though he tries to hide it.

"She told me... we... she... the doctor says it happens every now and then for no apparent reason... and there's not much we can do, just keep trying.”

The lie is coming smoothly over his lips; he must've thought about how to explain it it for a while.

"We still have options though. I'm... I just don't know if I want that. I want it to be ours. Anyhing else...just doesn't feel right, you know. We haven't really talked about it but I reckon, she feels the same..."

He's struggling with the words but James still understands.

"I wish I could say that everything will be okay. But I guess that's not what you want to hear. All I can say is that I'm really sorry, Ben. But you have her, a beautiful, clever woman who loves you so deeply it almost hurts to see you together. She's changed you. In the best way possible. I can't even remember seeing you this happy. Watching you two...man, one could get jealous. The way you look at her? I have never seen you like that."

There's a short silence and Esme holds her breath, waiting.

Benedict's words barely reach her audibly but in her head his emotions almost knock the air out of her lungs.

"I would do anything for her."

James' soft laugh eases the tension in his shoulders.

"Don't you forget that. I'm pretty sure she's just as devastated as you are but neither of you can change that. You have each other and that's more than anyone else can say. And hey, you have so many nieces, nephews and god-children who adore you..."

"I know...it's just not the same..."

"Ben, listen to me. I've been through some rough times, you know that, done some really shitty things and the one thing I've learned? You can't change what's unchangeable. Deal with it, live your life and enjoy every damn second of it. It can be over far too quickly. Do you wanna waste the precious time you have with regrets?"

"Of course not."

"Then don't. Live your life, you only have this one. For Christ's sake, get a dog if you need something small to care about."

James is teasing, and with anyone else it would've been a cruel joke but somehow it was exactly the right thing to say.

She hears a huffed laugh and slowly the constriction around his chest vanishes, leaving him with a lighter heart.

Letting out a breath she hadn't noticed holding, her shoulders slump and she stands again.

She puts back the dress she's still holding and heads towards the kitchen, making enough noise that the two men can hear her.

When she walks in, they're both smiling at her.

"There you are," James says lightly, putting his mug down and stands, "thought you drowned in the shower or so."

She grins at him.

"You know how us women are, needing ages to get dressed."

James' laugh is warm.

"That is true. That's why I'll leave you now, rehearsal's calling my name. Drinks after the show? I'll pay."

"How could we say no to such a generous offer?" Benedict replies, standing as well.

"Eh, free booze is never lost on you," James says, winking at Esme before he hugs her tightly.

"I'll see you tonight, Love."

His honest sympathy is endless and for a moment she lets it wash over her and erase the guilt deep inside.

Benedict walks him to the door and after a quick goodbye he returns to the kitchen, lost in thoughts.

Esme leaves him be, keeping her own thoughts hidden even though he wouldn't even notice right now.

She cleans up, puts away the remains of their breakfast and just as she wants to leave, Benedict's head lifts. His beautiful eyes find hers.

"I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotions.

She swallows hard, at a loss for words.

"And I will always love you. And when I'm old and grey I want your face to be the last I see. Yes, I'll always mourn that we can't have children. No, don't deny it, I know we can't. I can see it in your face and I have felt it in your dreams. You still try to convince yourself it might still happen even though you know it won't. It might take a while to get past this and a part of me will probably never stop grieving but that's okay. James is right: I have you and I should and will treasure that. You are my everything."

Esme's eyes fill with tears at his quiet words and when he reaches out a hand, she takes it. Their fingers instantly entwine and he pulls her against his chest, his other arm pressing her close.

"You own my heart and my soul, my body is yours and my mind will always revolve around your well-being. I know I have hurt you and I am sorry. I've been too caught up in my own pain that I didn't notice that I've saddened you also. Please forgive."

It takes her a few tries before she can say something.

"There is nothing to forgive. You are who you are," she whispers against the thin fabric of his shirt, "you can't change how you feel. If there was anything, you know I would do it... anything for you. And if I could, I would leave you and make space for someone who could give you what you deserve."

His breath hitches at her words and she can barely endure the raw sorrow he permeates. 

"But," she says, leaning back and searching his eyes, "you know I won't. I cannot leave you. Your life is already far too much entangled with mine. Our souls belong to one another and there's nothing that will ever be able to break that bond."

The soft smile blooming on his face is heartbreaking in its sweetness and he nods.

"I know. And I accept that. With you by my side I can do anything."

The smile widens and his eyes sparkle blue in the bright light streaming into the kitchen.

Words become unnecessary as he leans down and she meets him halfway.

Their kiss is tender, lips brushing quietly against each other, hands holding gently onto the other one and yet there's something in it, something old and urgent. A vow perhaps, a promise, the ancient oath every man and woman seeks to make. Giving themselves over so completely to another being that nothing else matters.

They keep kissing, slow and unhurried, wrapped safely into their embrace, feeling the other one's heartbeat strong and steady.

When they eventually part, something has changed. Esme notices it immediately.

Benedict feels it too and the smile on his face becomes so blinding, she has to close her eyes for a moment.

"Oh," he mutters, his heart jumping a little before it returns to its normal pace.

Leaning her face against his chest, listening to the assuring thump of his heart, she wraps her arms around his waist.

He's been carrying around that little dark cloud in his soul for a while now.

And neither of them had noticed it, didn't want to acknowledge it.

By avoiding the subject they had both hoped to keep things like they were.

Of course it doesn't work that way.

Sometimes one has to go through heart wrenching pain to emerge stronger.

James had opened the floodgates, had made Benedict pour out his heart to him, which he wasn’t able to do with her.

Not because he didn't want to but because he couldn't. It had needed the unbiased ear of a friend - not a lover - to help him accept it.

With that he was able to share his grief, mourn the absence of something he had always wanted and will eventually put it past him.

If he hadn't done this, his soul would have become darker and darker and even his love for her couldn't have kept him from slipping into depressions or worse.

"I think I owe James more than a drink," he murmurs into her hair, making her chuckle.

"I'll buy," she says as she pulls back.

They keep looking at each other, for the first time in a while just letting their hearts speak instead of words.

*

Later that evening, after a wonderful concert, some hastily wiped away tears on both Esme's and Benedict's side and some very tight hugs to the pianist, they find themselves in a dimly lit restaurant among close friends.

James is vibrating with energy, his head is surrounded by excitedly bouncing notes, whizzing about like tiny rockets which makes Esme grin whenever she looks at him.

"Aren't you the amused one tonight?" he teases as he falls on an empty chair next to her.

"Nothing wrong with having some fun," she replies, her eyes on Benedict, who is chatting with Stephen; they haven't seen each other in a while and lots to catch up on.

She feels James' gaze follow hers.

"He's different than this morning," he muses, casting a side glance at her.

"You think?"

"Hmm, yes. More...at ease, I'd say."

She smiles but doesn't say anything.

James' is much more perceptive than people think, very sensitive to mood swings and she's not surprised that he notices.

They sit in silence for a while, watching Benedict laugh at something Stephen says to him.

"I've always wondered what he sees in you," James says after a while, "you're so different from his ex's. No, that's not right... just different.”

"Was that why you hated me?"

He snorts.

"Probably. I was also worried about him."

“Which you showed quite clearly."

"I just didn't understand. He'd only just met you, how could he be so...smitten with you. That isn't really his style. He's usually so careful around new people, always keeping his distance until he knows them better. And yet there you were, holding him in the palm of your hand. Guess you're something special."

"Perhaps I am. But so is he."

James's approving hum warms her heart and without looking she reaches out, laying a hand on his arm.

"Yes, that he is indeed," he says softly, covering her hand with his own.

Benedict, still deep in conversation, lifts his head and his eyes instantly find hers. They flick from her face to her hand, still on James' arm and the warm affection she gets from him, makes her squeeze James' arm, who looks at her puzzled.

As he notices that Benedict's watching them, he grins cheekily and leans over, planting a mock kiss on her cheek. Benedict glares from across the room, waving a warning finger at him but the huge smile on his face betray his actions.

"He loves you, you know," Esme whispers, not taking her eyes off Benedict as he finishes his chat and slowly comes over.

"I know, and I love him. And you. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I was wrong about you. You're the best that could've happened to him. Be gentle with him."

James' tone is as soft as hers, the plain honesty in his words tugging at her heart.

"I am."

Benedict has reached them, plucking Esme's hand from James' grip and presses it against his chest.

"Hands off, Rhodes, she's mine."

"Then you should keep a better eye on her," James shoots back, standing up, a cheeky grin on his lovely face.

"I've always have my eyes on her."

Benedict's voice has lost the teasing tone and his gaze is gentle. Esme meets his eyes, playing her fingers over his steadily beating heart.

James gaze flickers between the two of them before he throws his hands in the air.

"Geez, get a room, you two."

As he leaves them, his hand brushes over Esme's back and Benedict's arm around her.

Benedict shivers gently as he catches the unconditional affection the man emits, smiling after him as he disappears around a corner.

"Such a beloved man," Esme whispers, kissing the spot of bare skin just below his throat.

"Hush you," he says, blushing a little.

"How about we follow his advice?" she suggests, letting her tongue flick over his neck and making him shiver again - for different reasons though.

"Sounds like a bloody good idea."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra beta duties in this chapter were done by OzGirlGlinda - Thank you!!!


	5. Chapter 5

She's alone in bed, unable to fall asleep.

He's still on set, working.

They repeated one scene over and over again and he's gotten angry with himself for messing things up.

She had tried to calm him but it was one of the few times even her presence didn't help.

He'd sent her home. His thoughts were a jumbled mess and she knew it'd be better to leave him alone, let him sort it out by himself.

It's one of the rare times that she has to sleep alone - she doesn't like it.

The bed seems too big, too empty without him right next to her.

Glancing at the clock at her bedside, she sighs and rolls on the other side, burying her face in Benedict's pillow.

His scent surrounds her and as she hears his voice in her head, she's not surprised.

"Hey there," he says huskily. He's dead tired, his voice a rough quiet rumble in her mind.

"Hey."

She knows she should worry about the fact that she can hear him as clear as a bell even though he's miles away.

But over the past months something has changed between them. She's not sure if their connection only has deepened even further or if his own mind has become stronger.

She stopped caring a while ago.

He can't influence others: they tried. Even the ones close to him were unaffected as he tried on a calm evening among friends and family. Although he did catch fragments here and there, she doesn't worry about it. It's more feelings rather than clear thoughts, and only if he concentrates.

Esme seems to function like an amplifier; once they'de realised that, she shuts her mind off whenever they're around people he knows well.

And it works. There are still a few things Esme doesn't understand but as long as they don't cause any damage, she just accepts them.

So she just curls around herself, snuggling his pillow tighter and opens her mind widely.

"Did I wake you?" he asks sleepily.

"No, couldn't sleep at all."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He falls silent for a moment, hesitance coming off him and Esme sighs.

"You're staying the night."

She can almost feel him nod.

"Yes. I can barely keep my eyes open and even though they offered me a driver, it would take ages to get home. And I have to be back in a few hours anyway. I'm sorry, my love."

"Hush. Stop apologising."

"I'll see you tomorrow..."

His tone is full of longing and her heart aches as she pictures him, laying in a bed as empty as hers.

Suddenly she feels a caress on her cheek, feather light and so soft, it tickles a little.

"What are you doing?" she asks surprised, laying a hand on her cheek.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yes."

"This too?"

Another feather light touch, down her neck, making her skin tingle.

"Yes," she whispers astonished, her lids fluttering closed at the sensation of the barely there touch.

He's humming gently now and as she opens her mind even wider, she can see him.

Laying in bed, the duvet haphazardly pooling around his waist, he's trailing a finger over his throat, slowly sliding it down his chest.

Trancelike she lifts her own hand to her forehead, letting her fingertip stroke over her eyebrows, her nose, outlines the contour of her lips, feeling not her skin but his, smooth and warm against her fingers.

Benedict's low moan in her head is the most erotic sound she's ever heard.

"I wanna touch you so badly," he murmurs, his other hand now joining in. He strokes his shoulders, slowly, and it chases shivers down both their spines.

Esme's heart is beating rapidly in her chest, her entire body is yearning for his touch.

"Then do it," she whispers into the dark, her own hands mirroring his touch on himself.

His large hands wander down, his palms brushing over his sensitive nipples, making her moan and arch up desperately.

"God, I can feel your heartbeat," he mumbles, pressing his palms harder against his skin. Fingertips circle his nipples, nails scratch lightly over burning flesh and Esme muffles a cry in his pillow.

Her own hands slide down her stomach and she feels the coarse hair on his belly, leading down to his straining erection under the duvet.

Heat is rushing through her veins and suddenly it's too hot in bed.

She throws her duvet off, faintly feeling him doing the same.

"What would I give to be with you right now," she mutters, stretching out on the mattress, sighing as the cool air soothes her heated body.

"You are," he replies, his words dark and quiet, making her moan with longing, "right here next to me, caressing my skin..."

His voice trails off as he slips a hand under the waistband of his pants, closing it tightly around his hardness.

She feels his touch, feels his fingertips dance over her groin, can almost feel his increasing breath against her mouth.

Moaning she mirrors his motions, slides a finger through the wetness between her legs.

His answering groan is rough and low, echoing in her head until her entire world consists only of his voice and his fingers, stroking himself slowly.

"Warm," he whispers, "so warm..."

She matches his movements, her finger circling her sweet spot gently, causing shudders in her limbs and sparks behind her closed lids.

"Harder," she groans, speeding up her motions, feeling him curse quietly as he follows her lead.

Everything is his strong hands, his nimble fingers, stroking, rubbing, tantalisingly slow yet with an intensity that makes her entire world centre around him and his mind, his body melting against hers.

She can see him: head thrown back, his pale throat exposed, sweat forming on his forehead. His pulse is racing, the muscles in his arm flexing as he works himself - and her - faster. He's panting, groaning loudly, forgetting everything around him, losing himself in their shared touch.

And when his lids flutter open, his eyes wide and all seeing, a deep desire washes over her as she sees herself through his eyes.

Her red hair spread out around her head, her naked body flushed, sprawled over the sheets of the bed, breathing heavily, her hand between her legs furious, her hips bucking, her thighs trembling. A soft green aura surrounds her, quivering like her wildly beating heart.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispers, his free hand gliding over his torso, mapping out the ribs jutting out from under milky skin, setting her own skin on fire at his shaking digits.

His orgasm is quickly approaching, she can feel the hot anticipation coursing through his blood, feels the quiet shivers raising all hair on his body.

Both their minds are blank except the deep bond they share, the other one overly present, their feelings mingling, doubling the pleasure and as Esme's orgasm thrums through her, she screams out and arches up, feet pressed deep into the mattress.

Benedict's mind is a swirling kaleidoscope, blurry images of both their bodies, naked and glistening in the low lights.

And then he shouts her name and comes in hot, heavy waves, his orgasm blacking out every single thing in his head but the image of her blissful face.

Esme cries out again, the intensity of his release almost too much to bear and yet she can't control it. She's shaking violently, her hands helplessly scrambling for a hold on the sheets, her body feels as if it's dissolving.

And then everything goes black.

When she comes back to herself, her pulse is pounding loudly in her ears and it takes a moment to hear Benedict's concerned voice.

"Esme, darling? Talk to me..."

"'m here..."

Relief rushes through him, making her smile weakly.

"God, I thought...are you okay?"

She's still gently shaking but she nods.

"Yes. God, that was..."

She can't even form proper words; neither can he now that he feels that she's back with him.

"Spectacular? Extraordinary?" he offers eventually, a little breathless, his voice breaking at the words.

She smiles hazily, nodding.

"Something like that."

Silence falls as they collect themselves again.

She catches a glimpse of his spent body, pliant and boneless in between rumpled sheets, an image of pure satisfaction.

Running a finger down her chest, she feels him shudder.

"God, you need to stop that. I'll be a total mess on set later..." he murmurs, betraying his words as he runs a hand through his hair, making her moan in return as she feels his loving fingers caress the sensitive skin at her temples.

"I can't wait to see you again," she whispers, pulling the duvet back over her.

"And I you," is his faint reply.

With quiet regret she realises that he's falling asleep quickly.

"Good night, my love," she sends but he's already silently snoring.

Sighing she rolls over onto his side of the bed, his scent hanging heavily in the air, letting his calm, deep breaths guide her into sleep as well.

*

The next morning is grey and cold and only the knowledge that he's waiting for her, gets her out of bed.

She tries to reach him but he has shut off his mind - he is working already.

While she gets ready, her thoughts drift back to where it all started.

*

In the beginning she had kept herself hidden.

From him, from everyone else in order to do what she was sent for - it was less distracting for the guarded ones. Even though they knew, they just forgot when they couldn't see her.

But Benedict, sensible perceptive Benedict, was different.

He felt her presence now that he knew he wasn't alone anymore, knew when she was close.

That was when the problems started.

He wasn't able to keep his attempts to communicate with her in his mind, especially when he was working.

His head was occupied with his lines, his current character and there wasn't space for mental words.

First it was only sporadic: seemingly talking to himself, asking for her, trying to make her show herself.

He quickly slipped into constant conversation, had talked to her as if she was present,

And people started to notice.

More than once he'd gotten strange looks, and slowly they thought he'd gone mad, blaming the incident.

It had gone that far that the director had plain out asked him if he needed mental help.

It had been horrible.

Esme had to interfere massively in order for him to keep his job.

That evening she had showed herself to him for the first time since their initial encounter.

 *

_"You can't do this any longer," she says, leaning against the door-frame of his trailer._

_He's still in costume, and for a second she admires his long legs in the tight 19th century trousers._

_Whipping around, his breath hitches and his heart jumps, surprised._

_"You need to stop talking to me," she explains, ignoring her own thundering pulse as his wide eyes meet hers._

_"Why?"_

_His voice is hard but his eyes are pleading._

_She can sense his desperate desire and unconsciously she steps closer to him, not able to resist the pull he has on her._

_Mirroring her motions he also steps closer until they're only an arms-reach away._

_"I know you're there, I can feel you. Why can't I talk to you? You're supposed to be by my side, right?" he asks, his gaze roaming over her figure and she feels his heart picking up speed._

_"You're supposed to protect me."_

_It's not even a question anymore, it's knowledge. Nevertheless she nods weakly._

_"Then protect me. Even if it's only from myself."_

_There's something in his tone that makes all her nerves tingle and shoots a hot jolt down her spine._

_"Ever since I saw you... I can't stop thinking about you. As you probably know," he huffs a low laugh, "I'm dreaming of you..."_

_"I know," she whispers, unable to pull back as he reaches out for her._

_His hand is warm as it gently touches her cheek; careful and hesitant as if he fears she might vanish when he touches her._

_"I feel you when you're around. It's like..." he frowns, trying to find words to express himself. Failing he slides his hand, his wonderful large hand, around her neck, urging her closer and pressing his forehead against hers._

_Her mind fills with a cascade of whirring images: a blanket, tightly pulled around his body. A hot cup of tea on a rainy day. A quiet colourful sunset. Blurry images of his family._

_Underneath all this she feels safety - warm and cozy, the all overwhelming sensation of utter security._

_"I have never felt like this before," he murmurs, his breath ghosting warm over her face, "and it's all because of you."_

_"Oh Benedict," she sighs , helpless to his - and her own - emotions._

_She closes the distance between them and kisses him softly._

_He groans quietly and pulls her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her, sinking into her kiss._

_Everything around her becomes irrelevant with the touch of his lips, the slide of his tongue, his large hands on her back._

_Both their minds are blessedly blank as they keep kissing, slow and gentle, getting to know each other's mouth._

_His growing erection presses against her leg and for the very first time she feels arousal course through her veins, hot and pleasant._

_Surprised she pulls back, breathing hard._

_Looking up at him, she can read his longing for her in his face and in his oddly coloured eyes._

_"I knew you'd be trouble," she sighs, smiling up at him._

_"Told you," he replies lowly and his voice chases another shiver down her spine._

_Ignoring the smirk on his full lips she steps back; she needs a moment to think and she can't do that with him that close._

_He senses it and lets her. Sitting down in the bed, he waits._

_And yet she's overly aware of him, his quiet presence intense, his faint scent still in her nose, his open yearning just at the edge of her consciousness._

_Throwing her hands in the air, she turns, meeting his patient eyes._

_"You won't stop, will you?" she asks, knowing his answer even before he can decipher her seemingly random question._

_"Never," he says, standing again._

_"Esme, I need you. I don't know how I've done all this without you before but now that I have you, I won't let you go. You're in my thoughts all day long, I can't concentrate, I can't forget you. I don't know anything about you, I don't know what exactly you're doing here or why. All I know is that I need you."_

_His voice is steady, his expression soft and everything in her craves his touch._

_"All right," she sighs, letting down every single guard in her mind._

_Letting him see._

_If they do this, he has to know._

_Needs to know._

_They won't be able to hide much from each other - their bond is already strong and if she decides to become part of his life, become his lover, he needs to know the downside of their connection._

_Needs to see that she'll know almost everything he'll think and feel, that he won't be able to hide anything from her._

_Needs to know that she may do things he won't like in order to protect him._

_And that he needs to bind himself to her utterly and completely - otherwise it'll destroy them both._

_"I already have," he whispers breathlessly at the on-storm of information, "from the second I saw you, I was yours. And always will be."_

_Groaning she takes the few steps forward that separate them and as his mouth find hers, she gives herself over so completely that he staggers at the force. He clings to her, his hands dig deep in her flesh, his body presses hard against hers but his thoughts are gentle as are his lips._

_"Yes," says his mind, "yes to it all. As long as you stay with me, a thousand times yes."_

_And in that second, in a dark room their hearts slot together like puzzle pieces - two halves of a whole and she smiles._

_Whatever happens in the future, it'll happen to them both._

_Later, when they lay in bed, curled around each other, naked and sweaty, they talk._

_"I have to go public," he muses, his fingers tracing aimless circles over her skin, "I won't be able to hide you. Not for long, that is. And I don't want to."_

_The affection in his tone, the soft determination to show the world that he's taken, causes her to curl closer around him._

_Knowing who he is, what work he does and how he affects people with everything he does, she knows that it's the biggest commitment he can make._

_"Are you sure?" she asks anyway._

_It's a huge step for him and even though she knows it'll be them for the rest of his life, she doesn't want to rush it._

_"I've never been more certain about anything in my life," he murmurs, pressing a kiss in her hair._

_"I want to have you by my side, I want to talk to you whenever I want and not looked at as if I'm bonkers. I want to touch you whenever I feel like it, want to kiss you, want to feel you...love you..."_

_His voice breaks and he swallows hard, tiny waves of desire clouding his thinking for a moment._

_She hides her smile against his neck._

_"Then you shall have it."_

*

And so it was done: he lets Karon release a press statement, declaring himself off the bachelor market.

He finishes the movie he's working on and they escape to the country side, letting his people deal with the aftermath.

Two weeks later they make their first appearance together at a small film premiere. The press is all over them instantly, and Esme has to steel both their minds to endure the wild frenzy. But they make it through it, smiling and holding hands, assuring each other it was the right decision.

The papers are full of pictures of them together for a few days, there's a huge outcry among his fans and Karon advises them to not go online for a while.

Eventually they ease up on them and after a few months they leave them alone altogether.

Soon they can settle into their now shared lives.

Upon his request for any project he signs up to, she joins him on set. Mostly she stays back, sits in a corner, watching. Sometimes she waits in his trailer or hotel room but that's rare.

He's calmer, more focused when she's around, and it shows.

Cast and crew always eye her suspiciously, wonder why she's just there, watchful and quiet.

But mostly they forget about her quickly, just accept her and if she's helping that along, nobody but her and Benedict will know.

She's by his side all time, just like he wanted.

*

Shaking off the past, she concentrates on the here and now again as she leaves the house towards the set location.

It takes her a while to get there, traffic is horrible but eventually she arrives, smiling gently at security as they recognise her.

Nodding they let her in and slowly she makes her way to the closed set Benedict is working at.

She greets the few familiar faces she encounters before she slips through a door into a dark studio.

She can't see him but she feels his presence.

Even though it's tarnished by the shell he puts on himself whenever he's playing a role, his real self shines through, a tiny beacon in the darkness.

Sometimes his real self shows more, sometimes less but it's always there, in every part he plays; it's his basis to build every single role on.

He's praised for completely slipping into character, becoming the part, but what only a few people know: there's always a bit of Benedict in his roles.

Hidden and packed away under different layers that help him to create a new character, but always there.

Esme never gets tired of watching him work; she's spent hours carefully peeling away layer after layer until she finds the real Benedict. And it never ceases to amaze her: his talent is astounding, his versatility mesmerising.

Making sure she's shut off her mind to not interrupt him, she sneaks closer to the brightly lit area.

And yet he notices.

Even though he's fully immersed in his work, his lips twitch and there's the fleeting caress of his thoughts, acknowledging her before he shuts her out again.

She crams herself into an abandoned chair, letting the dark atmosphere around her hide her from everyone.

And she just watches.

His mind is hidden from her, there's only the adapted consciousness of his character.

He's playing a complicated man, twisted and cruel, and it shows.

His clear eyes are clouded as he's muttering to himself, showing signs of insanity, pacing the small area he's trapped in.

Esme tilts her head; she knows it would take a while to dig deep enough to find the real Benedict.

His movements are jerky, his normally effortlessly elegance unbalanced, his large steady hands slightly shaking.

It's very subtle, the raise of an eyebrow, the tilt of his head, his bitten off words.

He's hunching his shoulders, making himself smaller than he is, permeating the unmistakable aura of a deeply disturbed man, struggling with life.

That man out there, he's nothing like the man she shares her life with and yet she can see glimpses of her Benedict, feel the gentleness in his being.

It's utterly astonishing.

He's been waiting for a role like this for a while now. Not consciously - when they offered him the part, he had hesitated, unsure whether to take it.

After reading and re-reading the script and long nightly discussions with Esme - and himself - he eventually agreed.

Esme is certain, this is the one role that will get him the recognition he deserves.

It's the stepping stone to new heights.

It's Oscar material.

"Cut. That was brilliant."

The director's call tears her out of her thoughts.

"Alright everyone, that's a wrap."

Cheers fill the quiet filming area and suddenly the small space is crowded with people, clapping Benedict on the shoulders, shaking his hand, hugging each other.

The entire atmosphere shifts from tense to cheerful, the pressure falls from each and everyone of them.

It's been a hard project with tight schedules, very demanding on cast and crew.

Benedict had been tense for almost the entire shoot but now he slowly eases into the post filming relief.

His eyes search hers, the smile on his lips is wide and it makes her heart jump.

"Done."

She smiles back at him.

"Good."

He wants nothing more than to kiss her but everyone wants his attention, wants stuff signed or a quick picture taken and he sends a brief apology in her direction.

She knows the procedure.

Standing she slips out of the studio, walking straight towards his trailer and settles in for some waiting.

She doesn't have to wait long though.

Only half an hour later the door flies open and he stumbles in, radiating the pent up energy that always fills him when he's finished a project.

Without a word he goes to her and pulls her up from where she sits.

His mouth on hers is greedy, his lips hard, his tongue hot in her mouth, his hands digging deep into her flesh.

She clings to him, holding him together as he loses himself so completely in their kiss that she has to break it in order to keep him from falling apart.

Murmuring soothing nonsense she directs him towards the small sofa, making him sit down, never letting go of him.

Slowly his kisses turn less frantic and after a few more moments he's kissing her gently, his hands lose their desperate grasp.

When she carefully pulls back, he's panting but she sees the ease in his eyes.

"It's over," he whispers, his rough voice breaking at the end.

"Yes," she says, stroking a calming hand over his neck.

"If I ever want to take such a role again..."

"...I'll encourage you," she finishes his sentence.

Shaking his head, a half smile dances over his lips.

"Please don't. It'll take ages to get rid of that... that thing again."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," she replies confidently.

The white hot cascade of feelings coming from him takes her breath away and in lieu of an answer her kisses her again. Slow and deep and heartbreakingly sweet.

"We need to get ready for the party."

He only shrugs, wanting to kiss her again. The wrap party is the last thing he wants to think about now.

She pulls him on his feet, searching for his hands.

"Come here."

He needs more than kisses now.

Without a word, he touches his forehead to her and closes his eyes.

They stand like this for a while, just breathing.

He's so lost in her, he doesn't even notice when her wings surround them, closing gently over his back, hiding him from the world for a moment.

She spins a net of quiet images around him: softly falling rain, the peacefulness of a winter sunrise, leaves fluttering on a tree.

His hammering heart, his racing pulse slowly decelerates, his swirling thoughts calm down.

Eventually his lids flutter open, meeting her eyes and he exhales loudly.

"Thank you."

She nods wordlessly, the tips of her wings brushing over the nape of his neck, making him shudder in delight.

Tugging them away again, she ignores the quick flicker of disappointment on his face.

"Later," she whispers and he nods sharply, "go now."

He kisses her again before he turns on his heels and leaves the trailer.

Keeping the easy aura around him as long as possible, she only lets go when he reaches the studio door.

*

"Shit," he murmurs as they enter the hotel where the wrap party is held.

The lobby is filled with people: fans and paparazzi alike, crowding the wide space of the hotel, expectantly watching the entrance and the lift doors equally.

A collective buzz runs through them as they spot them and only the discreet cordon a considerate hotel employee had put up, keeps them from crushing them instantly.

"Mr Cumberbatch, would you please follow me?"

The hotel clerk appears out of nowhere next to them as they hesitantly step into the lobby.

Relieved they follow him quickly, ignoring the yelling mob, rushing towards them.

"This way, Sir," the man says, opening a door, leading down to the hotel bar.

"It's closed for the public so you should be undisturbed for the rest of the evening," he says and before they can thank him, he hurries away, shooing people back who are too forward and try to step over the cordon.

Gratefulness fills them both as they slowly descend towards the bar where the wrap party is held.

They don't talk; Benedict is still shedding his character and Esme knows she can't really help with that, he has to do that on his own.

He holds her back as she wants to open the door.

Without saying a word he pulls her in his arms, his mouth instantly finding hers.

Despite his still shaky state of mind, his lips are confident and the kiss fills them both with a quiet strength.

"Only a few hours," he assures, more to himself than to her, nipping on her lip before he lets go again, running a hand through his hair.

His smile is brief but breathtaking in its beauty.

She holds out her hand. He takes it, their fingers entwine and with a squeeze to her hand he pushes open the door.

As soon as they've entered the room, they're surrounded by people.

Cast and crew alike, congratulating him on wrapping the most intense film he's ever made. Some hand him drinks, others just want to chat.

Esme stays by his side, even though it's hard with all the people around them. But he needs her to be close tonight. Precautionary she spins a thin net around them both, trying to keep all thoughts out.

And it seems to work: he soon relaxes and starts chatting away with everyone approaching him.

After a while his fingers around hers loosen and after reassuring that he's doing okay, she lets go, letting him wander around alone, talking and smiling widely.

"He's a lucky man," a voice beside her says, startling her.

Turning her head, she recognizes the woman next to her as his make-up artist, Claire. She smiles politely.

"And you're a lucky woman," Claire says, sipping on her drink, "he loves you so much, it's almost frightening. He didn't talk about anything else..."

Esme's heart leaps with joy.

"Did he?"

Claire grins widely.

"Uh-huh, everything's Esme this and Esme that, never shuts up about you."

The sweet, untainted adoration coming of the woman pierces through Esme's guard, making her smile happily.

"Well, I love him too," she says softly, her eyes following Benedict's tall figure as he wanders through the room.

"As I said, you two are very lucky. So, what are you doing, now that we've wrapped? He said, he wanted to take you on holidays?"

"Yes, well, not exactly holidays. A few days down by the sea. His parents own a house there, secluded and far away from everything..."

Her voice trails off but Claire understands.

"He's pretty worn out, huh? He told me how demanding this role was for him. A few days of peace will do him good."

Esme nods absently, the words of the other woman a mere buzz in her ears.

She can't see Benedict anymore.

Lowering her guards, she reaches out for him, her mind scanning the place for the familiar drone of his thoughts - and comes up empty.

It's not unusual. They've both closed off their minds and yet it stirs something uneasy in her stomach.

"Excuse me," she says to Claire as she starts walking into the room.

People smile at her as she passes them but she can't spare the same gesture at them.

Not right now.

Uneasiness grows in her and she feels panic clawing its way up. Suppressing it vehemently, she roams the space, opening her mind more and more to pick up a trace of him.

Nothing.

"Benedict?" she asks, her mental voice urgent and she faintly notices that she's breathing hard.

Willing her racing heart to calm, she circles the room twice before she heads for the door.

A sudden heat rushes through her and she stumbles, almost falling to the ground.

Her suppressed panic roars up, white hot and blinding as she hears his voice in her head, weak but audible.

"You don't really want this. Look, there's a bunch of people just next door... no, wait... stop it...please..."

His words subside but now that she's heard him, she knows where he is.

And that he's afraid.

Her eyes narrow and the panic inside turns into icy rage, drowning out every other feeling.

Straightening herself she turns and rushes over to the toilets. Without hesitation she pushes the door marked _Gentlemen_ open and it takes only one heartbeat to assess the situation.

Benedict is backed against the wall, hands raised in a pleading gesture towards the man in front of him, slowly approaching.

Esme can't see his face, all she can see are his hunched shoulders, the black aura around him and the glint of steel in his right hand.

"It's all your fucking fault," the man grunts, his voice harsh and unpleasant; hearing him chases cold chills over Esme's neck.

"You and your fucking stupid face, with your fucking voice and your fucked up attitude."

The man's words are spat out between gritted teeth and the utter hatred that fills the room, makes all hair on Esme's body stand on end.

Benedict presses himself further against the tiles, never breaking eye contact with the man, weakly shaking his head.

"Look man, really... I don't know what happened to your wife... I..."

He's stumbling, anxiety laces his tone and Esme knows it's only a matter of seconds before this gets out of control.

"Stop," she says quietly but this one word echoes in the room and the man flinches to a halt.

Esme feels Benedict's fearful eyes on her but for the first time she ignores him completely.

Her own eyes are on the man in front of him, frozen in motion, and she has time to notice every little detail: the sharp knife in his hand, the determination in his posture, the utter rightfulness of his doing in his thoughts.

"No," she says, her voice cold and hard, making both men jerk, "it's not your right. What you're about to do will never be rightful. Your wife didn't leave you because of him. She left you because she couldn't stand living with a drinking, abusing pig any longer."

The man whirls around, hate burning in his brown eyes, and he raises the knife towards her.

"What did you say?" he snarls, slowly moving towards her now.

"You heard me. Don't blame others for your own failure," she replies, calmness lowering over her like a warm blanket.

This is what she'd been sent for, this is what she's doing.

At this very moment Benedict is just one of her guarded ones, nothing more, nothing less. Right now she's his Guardian, here to protect him.

The ancient instincts kick in and without realising her wings snap free, filling the entire room with a green shimmer. Rising to her full height, she lifts her head and stares the man straight in the eyes.

"Lay one finger on that man and you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable life."

Her voice drops and the dark timbre of it makes the mirrors along the wall rattle.

Faintly she catches Benedict's shocked gasp but her entire attention is on the man standing in the middle of the room, gaping at her with wide eyes. His mouth has fallen open and his hands are shaking.

A sinister smile dances over her lips: she knows exactly what she looks like.

In all her decades she's been like this exactly twice: the perfect portrait of an avenging angel, harsh and brutal in an otherworldly beauty, with blazing eyes and wild hair, majestic wings soaring over her. She's utterly intimidating - pure fury, concentrated in one small female form.

"Leave now and never come back. Don't even think about coming close to this man ever again. Don't even think about it – I _will_ know. And you'll get to feel my rage And it won't be as harmless as this."

With those words, she strikes a hard whiplash at him and can't help the satisfied smile when he ducks his head, yelping at the force of her mind.

"Go," she orders and watches as the man drops the knife and flees the room, the door banging hard against the wall in his haste to escape her.

For a few long seconds it's utterly silent, neither of them moves or even breathes.

Benedict stares at her, his eyes wide like two oceans in the bright lights, his usually expressive face completely blank.

She can only stare back; the blood rushing through her veins is loud in her ears, the utter high surging through her body keeps her from even blinking.

Then Benedict swallows hard, his throat clicks loudly at the motion and it seems to break the spell laying over them.

With a sigh Esme slumps into herself, lowering her wings, folding them against her back, trying to get control over the still raging fury inside her.

He's still staring, his chest heaving now, the vein on his neck thick and blue out against his pale skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, slowly regaining her composure, "I know it's scary, I..."

She can't finish the sentence because Benedict rushes over, crowding her roughly against the wall, his lips on hers, his tongue forcing its way inside her mouth. His hands are frantically scrambling at his belt, and before she can even react to him, he has pushed down his trousers and hitches her up against the wall.

Without a word he hikes up her dress, tearing her pants aside and pushes inside her, his hard cock sliding easily through her hot wetness.

She hasn't even noticed how much she needed this until he's inside her, groaning desperately in her ear as he presses her hard against the cold tiles.

But now an primal want takes over her mind and her body and she wraps her legs around his waist, trusting his strength to hold her up. Burying her hands in his hair, she urges him closer, harder, faster, and he complies immediately.

His mind is blank, he's simply taking what his body demands.

He is panting heavily, every thrust of his hips makes her cling harder to him, his hands are digging deep into her thighs, holding her up.

She moans loudly, letting her body take the lead.

He needs this and so does she. They need to assure each other they're okay, still alive and breathing, together.

His jerky motions quickly become uncoordinated, his fingers biting painfully into her skin and yet she doesn't care.

Her own fingers are in his hair, holding on for dear life and she's losing herself in his hoarse moans and panted curses.

The boundaries between their bodies seem to vanish and she can taste herself on his lips, feels his climax approach, smells the bitter scent of his relief.

"Yes, God yes," she mutters, gripping a handful of his hair, jerking his head back and crushes their mouths together in a brutal kiss.

He's pounding into her mercilessly, not caring if he hurts her, forgetting everything around him, and when he reaches his peak, he yells out, her lips on his barely muffling it as he comes, violent and loud.

His head falls back, his hips stutter a few more times before he stills, gasping for air, every single muscle in his body trembling heavily.

She is teetering on the edge and he's too far gone to spare a thought for her so she slides a hand between their bodies, taking care of it herself.

It only takes a few rough rubs of her own fingers and she falls apart, clenching around his softening erection inside her, making him curse again.

Sparks explode behind her lids as she comes, the fierce sensation leaving a burning fire in her core and she helplessly clings to Benedict, letting her orgasm wash over her like waves of an ocean.

Then she doesn't know anything anymore.

"Esme, god, darling, please talk to me...Esme!"

His voice is broken, his tone painfully urgent but it's the guilt behind it that makes her open her eyes, meeting his.

They're bright green, a shimmer of gold flashing as he exhales relieved.

"Thank goodness!"

Slowly she notices that she's sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with Benedict crouched in front of her, his hands raking through his hair.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I have no idea what came over me, sorry, so sorry," he babbles, reaching out for her, pulling back, a million twisted expressions flitting over his scrunched up face.

"Shhh," she whispers, lifting a weak hand and laying it on his burning cheek, "it's okay, everything's fine..."

His lips press into a hard line and he flinches as she sits up, an involuntary whine escaping her mouth at the soreness between her legs.

"I've hurt you," he says, sounding utterly devastated, his usually lively baritone flat and toneless.

"No, it's okay," she repeats, carefully scrambling to her feet, adjusting her clothes. He's still kneeling on the floor, unable to meet her eyes. His mind is a mess; she catches traces of guilt and anger at himself.

"Get up," she says, a harsh edge to her voice and he instantly complies.

"Look at me." Another command, not as quickly obeyed but eventually he meets her eyes.

"Listen," she whispers, soothing her tone to something soft as she takes his face in her hands, his skin clammy against her fingertips.

Opening her mind widely, she transmits everything she's felt in the past half hour to him.

He stumbles at the force of it but then catches himself, absorbing every single emotion.

Her panic when she couldn't find him.

Her rage when she found him being threatened.

Her relief when he was safe again.

Her passion when he took what he needed.

And beneath everything, her never-ending love.

Never strained, never wavering, strong and steady as his heartbeat.

Endless like the universe, mysterious and infinite in its depth.

"Always. And forever."

Understanding dawns on his face and as he finally fully grasps what she's trying to say, his arms are around her, holding her tightly.

His mind is a whirlwind of emotions right now, shame still lingering in the back of his thoughts but as she softly pulls back and kisses him tenderly, it melts away, leaving only joy and a deep gratitude.

"What happened?" she asks, caressing his tense shoulders.

"I don't really know. He just stumbled in, talked about how I stole his wife, made her leave him... God, I've never thought shit like this actually happens..."

Pulling him down into another kiss, she quietly calms his troubled mind, not making him forget but helping him to accept it.

"It'll never happen again," she assures him, "I'll make sure of it."

There's something in her tone that makes him look up, searching her face with narrowed eyes.

"You will indeed," he murmurs, his brows lifting in understanding.

He exhales shakily and then huffs a thin laugh.

"My entire life went through my head," he says quietly, his fingers threading into her hair, his eyes glazing over, "all the things I did, everything... and there were no regrets, not a single one.”

The words tumble from his lips like water from a stream; he needs to get this out, and quickly, so she lets him, stroking his neck, waiting for him to continue.

"I didn't want to die, God forbid but I thought, if it happened today, in this very moment, the only thing I regretted was that you weren't with me. I wanted your face to be the last to see when it happens..."

His mouth opens and closes a few more times but no more words come out. Esme slides her hands in his messy hair, relishing the warmth of his body before she pulls him close, her nose touching his.

"And you will. Whatever happens, whenever it happens, I'll be there."

He nods, his breath ghosting warmly over he face and they stay like this for a while, breathing each other in.

Eventually he steps back, reluctantly letting go of her and re-arranges his rumpled clothes.

Motioning him over, she runs her hands through his dishevelled hair, making sure he's representable again.

"Thank you," he whispers as she lets go of him.

She knows he doesn't mean the hair, not even the sex or the rescue of that lunatic.

She only nods, words not suffice to express her own gratitude for this extraordinary man.

He straightens his tie, buttons up his jacket and with one last glance in the mirror he holds out his hand.

"Ready to face the world?"

His eyes twinkle, his tone is light and she knows he's going to be okay.

He's stronger than he thinks, will always be able to overcome obstacles and she knows the world is his oyster, ready for him to take his rightful place in it.

"Ready as one can be," she replies, laying her hand in his.

Together they leave the room and go back to the party as if nothing happened.

 *

Later that night, with Benedict's long limbs wrapped securely around her, she recalls the rest of the evening.

She'd never left his side, had been his silent shadow for the remaining hours they had to stay.

He'd been searching her closeness just as much as she had, never letting her out of his sight.

After what seemed an eternity they had escaped and headed home, hands never letting go of each other.

Without turning on the lights they had undressed and fallen into bed.

They had made love, slowly and for what felt like hours, had whispered promises into each others skin, urgent voices in the darkness of night.

Eventually the events of the day had taken their toll on Benedict and he passed out hard.

Now, in the shelter of his arms with the knowledge that he's alive, breathing calmly against her neck, she can let go.

And she weeps.

For herself, knowing she'll lose him eventually, knowing she won't be the same without him.

For him and his brave soul, unafraid and strong even in the eye of death.

For them because even eternity isn't long enough for a love as total and endless as theirs.

And for the world because there will never be a human being as generous and wonderful as he.

He is special and nobody will ever actually get to see that, will see what an unique human being he is.

He could change the world and yet he's content with being with her, his friends and family, humble and gentle in everything he does, not even thinking about aiming for more.

Tonelessly she weeps, quiet but with an intensity that makes her body quiver and causes his arms to tighten around her, his sleeping mind instinctively reaching out for her.

He's not awake but his subconscious instantly reacts to her, soothing her tenderly and eventually she falls asleep, her wet face tucked under his chin, his lean body her safe haven, his constant heartbeat the only home she needs.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again: extra beta duties in this chapter were done by OzGirlGlinda - Thank you!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always hugs thanks to Barawen and OzGirlGlinda for the super quick beta - what would I do without you two!?

The next morning they leave. Their bags have already been packed and a car awaits them to bring them to the countryside. 

Away from everything - just the two of them and a few quiet days. 

Just what they need right now. 

Surrounded by fields and close to the beach it's the perfect place to calm the mind and find serenity again. 

 

The first days they spend mostly in silence, a few muttered words over breakfast or dinner, soft and quiet as if not to disturb the peacefulness surrounding the place. 

Benedict's lost in thoughts, still trying to get rid of his recent character. The added pressure he's got from that 'mad man incident' as he refers to it in his head, only slows that process down. 

Esme leaves him be. He needs time to sort it out on his own.

He always needs a while to completely find himself again and this time it's even harder than usual. 

But she's there for him, brushing a hand over his shoulder, his neck, his head, reminding him that he's not alone. 

Gratefulness radiates in calm waves from him; he knows that.  

Nevertheless he searches solitude, even from her, spends long stretches of time alone. 

He wanders around the house as if seeing it for the first time, long fingers brushing over walls and furniture as if to memorise them. 

He sits by the fire, curled up on the sofa, staring into the flames, not moving for hours. 

Or he strolls along the shore, cold water licking at his bare feet, his eyes unseeing, his mind far far away, not noticing when night falls. 

Esme is glad they're alone out here; he's in no condition to be around anyone else but her. 

She knows him better than any of his family or friends and even if they probably know how he is after shooting such a straining film, they wouldn't understand his desire for aloneness.

 

On the third day he wakes her in the early morning, eyes bright and shining although his mind is still drowsy. 

Wordlessly he undresses her, starts kissing every single inch of her skin. 

A watery sun casts its beams through the curtains, paints golden paths over his pale back, makes his tousled morning hair shimmer. 

With tender hands and lips he worships her body, with hazy thoughts he praises her mind. 

She cries out when he finally enters her, covering her quivering limbs with his, holding her closely. 

Everything is slow and dreamlike, his unhurried motions never falter even as he can barely control the shaking of his body. 

His boundaries are down for the first time since they arrived. His actions speak of love and devotion, his mind transmits a desire and a fundamental longing which touches her so deeply that she can't control the tears springing from her eyes. 

Whispering soothing nonsense in her ear, he wraps himself so completely around her, she doesn't know where her being ends and his begins. 

Afterwards they lie between crumpled sheets, still tangled closely together, listening to the other one's heartbeat, fragments of sentences passing between them like fish under water. 

'Are you okay?'

'I am now.' 

'Anything I can do?'

'Be here. Stay with me. Hold me.' 

'Always.' 

'I love you.' 

'You are my everything.' 

 

Gradually they ease back into normal life: taking long walks on the empty beach, hands locked, thoughts grazing, slowly relearning to talk to each other audibly. 

They spend hour after hour on the porch, wrapped around each other on the large bench, fingers sliding over warm skin, lips carefully touching.

When the first snow starts falling one evening they sit by the window, watching their small little world turn into a winter wonderland. 

Hesitantly he starts asking the questions that are on his mind and she tries her best to answer them. 

"Why me?" he whispers. 

"I don't know," she replies, "he was utterly convinced his wife left him because of you." 

"But I've never seen him before, never saw his wife." 

"No, but she saw you. In films, television, probably also heard your audio work. Sometimes the lines between real life and fantasy blur so much, people have trouble to differentiate. And every now and then they lose their path and slip completely into a dream world..." 

"How?" 

He just doesn't understand. Even though he's a very emotional man, he's also a rationalist, stands with both feet in the here and now. 

She shrugs, trying to recall the few fleeting thoughts she caught from the man. 

"Struggles in their life? Problems at home? I don't know." 

"That is scary." 

"I know, my love." 

He dwells over this another day, muses quietly over things like his ever growing success but eventually he puts the entire incident away.

It's his life and as much as he dreads some of the things that come with his job, he just loves it too much to even consider giving it up. 

He won't forget it but he's decided to not let some crazed individual take control over his life. 

 

A week after their arrival, his parents phone, asking if they can visit. 

She looks over to him, questioning. 

He nods - he needs a distraction. 

Wanda and Tim arrive the next day with his favourite pie and they spend a wonderful day together. 

They bring news and gossip, keeping Esme and Benedict entertained with all the little things they miss while out here. They don't have internet or a television, the only news source is the radio and they barely turn it on. 

They learn that Benedict got nominated for several awards. 

As always with awards season, he radiates a quiet pride with his usual awkwardness about the attention it brings to his person

Esme hides her smile behind her glass. 

It's one of her favourite character qualities of his. 

He's always so humble about being nominated and he's never able to take the credit for it alone. He's always praising the works of everyone around him, especially the behind the scenes team. 

'They deserve much more attention and praise,' he usually says, 'they do all the hard work.'

'But they aren't then ones actually acting,' she then reminds him, 'they aren't the one bringing the character to life, that's only you.' 

That usually shuts him up. 

"One day you will have an Oscar on your mantel piece, Love," Wanda says, smiling proudly at her son. 

"Nah, mum, it'll be on _yours_ and I'll only be allowed to visit it once a month," he teases back, blushing a little. 

He would never actually hope for that and yet Esme knows one day he will - he must - win one. He's just too gifted to not be recognised as such. 

"Of course. I have to boast in front of my friends what a brilliant and talented son I have," Wanda shoots back, smirking.

Despite the teasing, Esme feels that Wanda - just like herself - firmly believes it's just a matter of time. 

Benedict throws his napkin at her, smoothly diverting the conversation into another direction. 

He's almost back to his usual balanced self. The visit of his parents is helping massively and Esme is very grateful for that. 

The brooding of the past days, the quietness, the seclusion, it worried her more than she let on. 

Normally he doesn’t even let a negative encounter faze him; he overcomes disapproval or rejection very quickly, as he never takes it personally

'They're only projecting' is his mantra which seems to help him keep his distance and stay objective. 

But of course, an attack like that, with the urge to physically harm him is something completely different and it shook him harder than he expected. 

He had nightmares; he doesn't know she noticed but of course she did. His mind is the most vulnerable when he's asleep and more than once she woke in the middle of the night to his disconcerting dreams. 

Never actually remembering in the morning - thanks to her influence - the restlessness thankfully subsided. 

She's glad that he's got such a strong mind; she's not sure how he would have taken anything like that incident with a weaker personality. 

Of course she's there, quietly guiding him back into normality but being with his parents helps more than she alone could have accomplished. 

"Hey, stop musing, I'm fine." 

Benedict's low voice in her head makes her smile and she slides her hand in his, squeezing.

"Sorry." 

"Don't be. I know you worry but there's no reason for that. Not anymore." 

Leaning over she kisses him quickly on the cheek, very aware that Wanda is watching them, a speculative glimmer in her eyes. 

"Well then," Benedict says out loud, "what else did we miss?" 

 

Wanda and Tim leave late that night, reminding him to visit before they return to the city and they promise to stop by on their way back. 

Benedict looks after them as they walk to their car, carefully navigating the snowy patches as they drive off, flashing the lights in goodbye. 

"Mum's wondering," he murmurs as he turns back to Esme, who's standing in the doorway. 

She nods; she's felt it too. 

"I know. I'll talk to her the next time we see them. It'll break her heart. I hope it helps that she'a already a grandmother..." 

With a few steps Benedict is by her side, pulling her in her arms. 

"I can talk to her," he says, burying his face in her hair. 

"No, it's hurting you just as much as it will hurt her. I can deal better with that." 

Sighing he pulls her closer. 

"Do you think it'll stop one day? The hurting?" 

Kissing the spot just below his neck, she shakes her head.

"No, I don't think so. But we will learn to live with it." 

He pulls back, searching her eyes, the hint of a smile lingering on his lips. 

"We will. I have you, that's the most important thing to me. I am still here, with you, nothing else matters." 

Leaning down he captures her lips in a languid kiss, his hands gently sliding down her back, pulling her impossibly closer. 

She kisses back, laying all her emotions into it and shivers as she feels his fingertips pushing under her jumper.

"Let me take you to bed and show you how important you are to me," he whispers, trailing warm hands over naked skin. 

And for a while here’s nothing else, just him and her. 

 

They return to London just after Christmas. 

Benedict launches himself back into work which keeps him occupied far into the new year. He signed up for the film a while back and it's a good distraction for them both. 

After that he takes it a bit slower, does some audio work in and around London; he doesn't feel like leaving, wants to stay home for a bit. 

He surrounds himself with friends, spends lots of time with Esme alone. 

As much as she loves to be close to him, it makes organising his birthday party a bit complicated. 

Hiding her thoughts from him has become harder and willingly keeping secrets from him is something she rarely does. 

But it's his 40th and she wants to surprise him. 

Of course it doesn't work - he finds out only a few days before. 

His face lightens up when he catches her just as she ends a phone call with James, his smile radiant in the soft light of the evening. 

"Don't spoil it," she only says, sighing resigned as she realises that she's caught. 

"Spoil what?" he grins, whistling innocently and wanders back into his office. 

Ignoring the fact that he knows, she continues organising everything, invites friends and family, orders what's needed and tries to keep him out of her head for the time being. 

The day before his birthday she deliberately spends at the hotel where the party is going to happen - there's a few things to do that require her presence. 

He complains - naturally - but she stays adamant, leaving him alone at home with a few strict instructions when he has to be where. 

Pouting he lets her go. 

"I'll make it up to you, my love," she says as she kisses him goodbye. 

The smirk he gives her makes her shiver in delight and helps her to concentrate on her task. 

When she falls into an empty bed that night, his thoughts are instantly with her, surrounding her and she falls asleep to his soothing voice, murmuring endearments. 

*

She stands on the balcony, only wearing the light silk sheet from the bed, wrapped loosely around her otherwise naked body. 

The city lies below her, busy and loud at times but up here it's quiet. All she can hear is the soft breeze, making the ends of her extemporary clothing flutter gently. 

The sun's slowly sinking behind the Houses of Parliament, making its massive structure look weightless in the golden light. 

Pink and orange clouds sail over the darkening blue sky, an early moon hesitantly peaking up just above the London Eye. 

Esme inhales deeply, the faint smell of greenery lingering in the cool clear air makes her smile.

London. 

A place she'd never been to before she'd met Benedict. 

Which had been just another smelly, crowded city, filled with rude strangers with uncontrolled minds. 

A place that would have driven her mad before. 

She loves the quietness of nature, the silence of places far away from any civilisation, being alone with her thoughts, becoming one with the space around her. 

Benedict had changed everything. 

London is the only place in the entire world where his mind can rest, his heart beats slower and where his soul finds peace. 

His endless love and his deeply rooted longing for this city is stunning, the feeling of home so strong it still surprises her. 

Returning to it after a long absence still feels strange to her, never like it feels for him.  

His relief, his all encompassing happiness when he sets foot back on English ground and the child-like joy when he opens the door to their flat for the first time after a while, is something that never ceases to amaze her. 

It had taken her a while to grasp and understand it but eventually she did: it's the feeling of knowing where the heart belongs – for him it's London and her equally, for her it's him. 

When he first brought her here, he'd shown her around, showed her not the London of the tourists but _his_ London. 

Through him she saw the hidden side of that loud grey city. 

Saw the small cafes he spent quiet afternoons in, reading a script or just watching people. 

Discovered the beauty of nature, tucked away in big parks and beautiful gardens, right in the middle of the busy city life. 

Found peace and quiet at the lakes and ponds around their flat, only a few minutes away.

And slowly she came to love this city - his city - as much as he does. 

Smiling she lets her eyes roam over the scenery below her. 

Dusk over London feels magical - when time seems to slow down and nature retreats for the night, she always seeks a place outside. 

When all creatures return to their caves and hiding places and when darkness falls, she feels more alive than at any other hour of the day. 

She lets go of the sheet, relishing the soft slide down her body. 

And the last beams of the sun caress her skin, gentle and warm, enveloping her like one of Benedict's embraces. 

Inhaling deeply, she closes her eyes and lets her wings snap free, sighing happily as she spreads them widely.

The soft breeze instantly catches in her feathers, brushing through them tenderly, like a lover's hand. 

This is coming home for her: the wind in her wings, the sun on her face, the world at her feet. 

A harsh intake of breath behind her has her smile. 

Not moving she waits and only moments later big hands slide through green feathers, caressing them gently and making them quiver under the soft touch. 

"You are sublime," he whispers against her neck as he steps closer, hugging her from behind. 

Her smile widens and she wordlessly slips her hands in his. 

They stand quietly, watching the sun sink lower and eventually vanish behind the buildings. 

"You're not leaving like this," he murmurs, his fingers dancing curiously over her stomach, his lean body pressing a bit harder against her back. 

"What if I do?," she asks teasingly. 

"You wouldn't make it to the door," he replies, pulling her closer, and she feels his hot hardness against her lower back. 

"Wouldn't I?" 

Pressing herself against him, he groans. The sound echoes in the quiet air around them, and suddenly her skin's prickling with goosebumps. 

"No, because I'd drag you to bed first," he growls in her ear, his tongue flicking over the shell, making her shiver delightfully. 

Instead of answering she pointedly looks over to the cozy lounger in the corner of the balcony. 

He follows her line of sight. 

"Ah." 

It's only huffed, barely a word and yet she can hear everything in it: his longing, his desire, his love. 

His hands have a purpose now as they glide over her skin, trying to cover as much of it as possible. 

Leaning back against him, her own hands fall to her side, letting him caress her tenderly, just like the sun did earlier. 

His long fingers outline her ribs, maddening in their slowness. Finally they reach her breasts and when he cups them carefully, covering them completely, she sighs wistfully. 

"I don't want be without you ever again," he whispers, "last night was too fucking lonely." 

"I know." 

His hands continue their explorations of her body, from her breasts over her arms and her shoulders, still unhurried and calm. 

He lifts her hair and kisses her neck, small little butterfly kisses, tickling and utterly devastating in their softness. 

"Being without you felt like someone had ripped out my heart and instead of dying, I had to live with a hole in my chest." 

She groans quietly, not entirely sure whether in pleasure as he bites the tender flesh at the nape of her neck or at the painful truth in his words. 

"I never want to feel like that again." 

With those words he carefully nudges her to turn around. 

She wants to fold away her wings but he shakes his head. 

"Don't. I want..." 

Words fail him but he transmits the clear image of himself, sinking down into her with a blissful moan, "and I want to have the whole you. Everything that you are. I want to forget myself so completely that nothing exists but you. Only you." 

He's speaking quietly but the incredible force of the emotions beneath his words makes her knees weak and her hands are trembling as she starts to open the buttons on his shirt. 

He's already wearing his suit for the party so she's mindful of that: carefully she pushes the jacket off his shoulders, lays it over a chair nearby, followed by the waistcoat and his shirt. 

Splaying out her hands over his chest, she revels in the smoothness of his skin, pale and warm, gently moving with his controlled breaths. 

"You are so beautiful," she whispers. 

Her hushed words have him shiver and her lids flutter closed at the wonderful feeling of his thundering heart beneath her palms. 

Leaning up she captures his lips in a deep kiss. 

"In all my time," she murmurs as she pulls back to open his trousers, "I've never met anyone as unique as you." 

He steps out of his trousers and she notices that he isn't wearing shoes nor socks but then he pulls her into a searing kiss and she forgets everything else.

A slow burn is filling her entire body, echoing in his limbs, running through their veins like fire. 

Slowly he walks backwards until he reaches the lounger. Heavily sitting down he pulls her into his lap, her legs straddling him, his erection brushing against her heated skin. 

"Like this," he mutters, his hands on her hips, wordlessly showing her what he means. 

The fire inside her flares up as she catches the blurry image of herself over him, her wings spread wide, casting dark green shadows over his ethereal face.

The shudder that runs through her at those thoughts is heavy, and a brief smirk darts over his face. 

It vanishes just as quickly as she pushes him down. He lies back, his stormy eyes never leaving hers, his hands gripping the edges of the lounger hard.  

She can almost hear the desire rushing through his body, can almost taste the passion on her tongue, sharp and bitter. 

With a low moan she kneels over him, bracketing his hips and slips a hand between their bodies. 

He muffles a broken cry as she closes her fingers around his throbbing hardness, guiding him gently between her legs. 

His eyes roll back and he arches into her as she sinks down on him. It feels as if his heart explodes as she slowly takes him in, clenching hard around him when she's fully seated. 

"Benedict," she whispers hoarsely, laying a quivering hand on his burning cheek. 

His lids snap open and she instantly drowns in the depth of his gaze: black as the night, wide and trusting, with a heat in it that it makes her heart flutter. 

"Esme," he breathes, thrusting up slowly and the feeling of it, of his thickness inside her combined with the utter love in his heart makes her whine, pushing down on him, wanting to feel him as deep as possible. 

She wants to melt into him, break out of her form and crawl into his, becoming one with the one being in the world, who makes her want to lose herself completely, give up everything she is - for him. 

His eyes widen even more as he catches her jumbled thoughts, the expression flickering over his gorgeous face too complex and complicated to understand. 

All she sees - feels - is his love for her, bright and untamed, endless as the sky above them. 

Letting go of every boundary, she starts moving slowly. 

The sounds instantly falling from his lips are uncontrolled and needy; he stopped holding back the second he pushed into her. 

Every choked off moan, every shuddery sigh, every low groan speaks of utter bliss. His eyes are open, drilling into hers, his heart is racing, his mind blank. 

And suddenly Esme can see his soul. 

The pulsing glow that is his very being, everything he was, is and will be, the essence of what makes him this exceptional man.

She could touch it; at this very moment she could lay her finger on it, could caress and hold it - and she could destroy everything he is with one flick of her mind. 

But so could he - she's laid herself completely bare, as vulnerable as he is. 

And they both know it, know they hold each other's fate in their hands. 

It makes this even more precious. 

This is about so much more than the act itself. 

It's about trust that goes beyond everything, and the knowledge that they'll be bound together for the rest of their lives. 

He's whispering words, hoarse and unintelligible, his voice broken and dark in her ears. She doesn't understand them but she feels their meaning with every move they make, in every push and pull, slick and hot inside her. 

She shifts, steadying herself on his heaving chest and leans back. 

Closing her eyes, she spreads her wings widely, stretching them out to their full length. 

He gasps loudly and suddenly she's sinking into his mind, easy and unhindered, further than she's ever been before. 

She sees herself through his eyes, small and lean against the moon, now high in the sky. Her face is in the shadows, her wings a majestic, breathtaking silhouette around her gently rocking body, fluttering helplessly with every thrust he makes. The expression on her face is otherworldly, her eyes closed, her mouth parted, her hair flowing around her head like a flaming cloud. 

"Look at me," he whispers and she opens her lids, meeting his gaze. 

His hands are shaking as he lifts them, searching for hers and as she entwines her own trembling fingers with his, a spark passes between them. 

Something deep inside her breaks and mends at the same time, something she didn't know was there. 

He feels it too, his clouded eyes narrow as he tightens his grip on her, holding her securely as he thrusts harder, groaning loudly when she meets every single one of them with a low moan. 

They move together, slow yet urgent, never taking their eyes off the other one. 

Blazing heat is coursing through their bodies, filling every cell, every atom with an all overwhelming need. 

Holding on tightly, she leans further back, her wings fluttering heavily now, shaking like her entire body shakes, her eyes falling closed as she increases their pace. 

Her spine is tingling, the familiar warmth of her orgasm rising and she knows Benedict is just as close as she is. 

His orgasm is so sudden, he can't suppress the loud cry that tumbles from his swollen lips. 

It's so powerful, so intense and all consuming, it erases everything but the fiery sensation of his release inside her. 

The ecstasy flooding his body, the incredible heat spiralling through his cells, triggers her own orgasm almost instantly and with an unabashed cry she comes, keening helplessly at the force. 

White hot sparks explode behind her closed lids and yet she can see herself, arching back, only his strong hands keeping her from falling, his own body still jerking weakly.   

She collapses onto his chest, barely feeling his arms closing tightly around her, holding her trembling body together. 

He moans as another wave of pleasure surges through her, reverberating in his bones and making him press inside her further still, against her, the urge of becoming one with her the only thought in his dazed mind. 

Words pass between them, unspoken yet unmistakable in their clarity. 

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'Till the end of time.'

'Forever.'

His hold on her tightens, her hands slide into his hair, her mouth finds his and his lips part with a quiet sigh. 

Tongues meet, messy and hot and lazy, sliding against each other, trying to express feelings they don't have words for. 

She's not even certain human language does - or ever will - have the words to describe what is between them. 

His long fingers caress her back and when they slide in her wings, comb carefully through her dark feathers, she shivers violently. 

Nothing in the world will ever come close to the feeling of his beautiful hands, so large and yet so kind, gently running along the delicate bones, outlining the structure of her wings like they're the most precious thing in the world. 

He huffs a dark laugh, an echo of his heated arousal making her arch against him again. 

"One day I want to go like this," he whispers, running a finger over her back. 

She looks up, meeting his clear gaze, her heart instantly beating faster and she tries to hide the panic his hushed words cause.  

"Don't say that," she murmurs, brushing a thumb over his elegant eyebrows. 

"Why not," he replies, "we both know that day will come." 

"I don't want to think about it yet," she says, her voice trembling. 

He smiles a serene smile which makes the skin around his eyes crinkle, giving them a cat-like glow. 

"And yet you do. Every day. You hide it well though." 

Shocked she lifts herself up, staring down at him. 

He's still smiling, and she suddenly realises that all her attempts to hide that one thought from him, have been futile. 

He's been close to death a few times in his life and always came out stronger, more secure about himself. 

He has his own way of dealing with it, ways she not always approves of, but in the end she can't do anything about it, lets him do what he needs to do. 

He knows about his mortality, probably even more than any other human being around him - even more than her.

And yet he's an image of absolute serenity, resting utterly and completely in himself. 

"I will die one day and there's nothing you can do about it," he says softly, pulling her back in his embrace. 

“Yes, I can,” she counters weakly. 

He laughs gently. 

“Can you keep me from dying of old age?” 

She sighs defeated. 

No she can't. She can keep him safe from outside interference, can make sure he doesn't die before his time but there's no way of keeping him alive forever. When his time has come, he has to go and she will have to let him leave. 

His voice is warm and rich as he continues talking, his dark baritone soothing the edge of his words. 

"If I've learned anything in my life, it's the fact that we have to leave this world one day. Some sooner, some later. Thanks to you, I hope I still have many years left. But I know, when the time comes, nothing will ever prevent that. I only feel blessed because I know, you'll be by my side. Till the very end. And I'm so grateful for that. Although...” he hesitates only for a split second before he continues calmly,” I've always hoped to leave something behind, a part of me..." 

Esme flinches but he's holding her tighter, making soothing little noises deep down his throat.

"I won't, and I've come to live with that..." 

"Your work will live on," she whispers, knowing it's only a small compensation. 

It makes him smile nevertheless. 

"Yes, that's what I hope. But even if not, if my work gets forgotten over time, I will die with the knowledge that I've had the most wonderful gift one can get. And gave back just as much. Remember that, will you? That you were loved by me and that you made my life a happy one... there's no tragedy in that.”  

Silent tears run down Esme's cheek as she clings to him, his warm body grounding her in the storm of emotions. 

"I'm only sorry that you will have to live without me," he murmurs, pressing kisses in her hair.

A sharp jolt shoots through her body. 

"I can't imagine a life without you," she breathes against his chest. 

"And yet you will go on," he says matter of factly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face. 

Her voice breaks as she answers:

"I'll never forget you." 

"I know and that's all I need to know." 

She lifts her head, looks at him, drinks in the lingering smile on his lips, the tranquil expression on his ethereal face, the absolute trust in his gorgeous eyes. 

"The world will never know what an extraordinary human being you are," she murmurs, sealing her lips over his, kissing him tenderly.

The small noise reaching her ears sounds like a sob and it takes her a moment to realise that it's her who made it. 

She's still crying, her tears are salty on their lips but his tongue is sweet as it curls around hers, kissing her so carefully as if it's the first time. 

Eventually he breaks it with a sigh. 

"As much as I don't want to, we should get ready..." 

Wordlessly she nods. 

On wobbly knees she stands, instantly collapsing to the ground, her legs not able to carry her weight. 

He's by her side within a heartbeat, helping her up. 

Instinctively she wraps her arms around him, pressing her nose in the hollow of his neck. 

Holding her, he stands still, his cheek resting on her head, his hands tracing invisible paths over her back, his steadily beating heart an anchor for her troubled mind. 

After a while she feels in control again and pulls back. 

Her eyes roam over his face, so well known, so beautiful; she knows every freckle, every crease, every inch better than her own and yet she's always surprised that he still makes her feel as if she's seeing him for the first time. 

He returns her gaze calmly, sensing that she needs a moment to collect herself. 

"My beautiful Benedict," she whispers, her fingertips dancing over his smooth skin, following the lines of delicate bones under pale flesh, outlining the unique shape of his ageless face. 

"Forever yours," he murmurs back, leaning into her touch, his breath hitching as her fleeting touch lingers over his parted lips. 

Sighing she pulls back. 

"They're waiting," she says, hesitantly taking a step away from him. 

Wordlessly he collects his clothes while she picks up the sheet and both walk inside to get dressed. 

While she slips into her dress, she watches him through the mirror. 

His movements are smooth and elegant as always, his hands steady as he re-arranges his tie and closes the buttons of his jacket, his thoughts calm and carefree. 

For the first time in a while he's at absolute peace with himself again. 

And right there, with her dress halfway up her waist, she makes a promise to herself: to keep him like this for the rest of his life. 

No matter what will happen, she'll make sure that he'll never has to fear anything. 

He looks up, meeting her eyes and smiles. 

"I've never been less fearful in my entire life," he says softly, motioning her to come over. Reaching out he closes the zip of her dress, pressing a kiss on her naked shoulder. 

"Thanks to you," he whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

She leans in and kisses him, forgetting everything around her for a moment. 

When they part again, the lingering smile on his lips widens and for a moment it seems like his skin is glowing, a warm shimmer surrounds his angular face like a halo. 

"Come on," he says, taking her hand, "I think, I have a birthday to celebrate." 

Hand in hand they leave the room, walking towards the lift, fingers tenderly caressing each other's skin.

"Do I need to act surprised?" he suddenly asks, making her laugh. 

"Only if you want to. I'm sure they already know that you know about the party." 

"Oh. Well, I'm an actor, aren't I? Guess I can play a surprised birthday boy." 

He grins at her, eyes sparkling mischievously and suddenly she has the feeling as if her heart can't contain her emotions any longer. 

"I love you," she whispers helplessly, "I love you so much." 

Her voice breaks and tears fill her eyes again. 

His smile fades and he gathers her in her arms, holding her tightly. 

"I know, my heart, I know. And I love you. With everything I have. Words are so useless sometimes, they can't even begin to express how much I love you." 

Leaning down, he captures her lips in a gentle kiss. 

"So much," he murmurs against her mouth, "so very much." 

They kiss and kiss until eventually they have to break it, gasping for air. 

"If I didn’t know that you put so much work into this party, I'd say, let's skip it and go back up," he mumbles, leaning his forehead against hers, "but..." 

She nods, straightening her back and wipes a few stray tears away. 

"But." 

Taking a deep breath, he kisses the tip of her nose, squaring his back. 

"But we have a party to attend to," he says. 

"Later though," she whispers, swallowing around the lump in her throat. 

"Later, yes," he replies, a deep longing lacing his words. 

Without breaking eye contact they collect themselves, their hands finding each other again, gaining strength from the other one. 

"Ready?"

"Ready." 

"Let's celebrate then." 

"Benedict?" 

"Hm?" 

"Happy Birthday." 

His smile is stunning, breathtaking in its beauty and blinding in its brightness. Wordlessly he squeezes her hand, his endless love so overwhelming, her knees tremble. 

And as he pushes the door open, she can feel a flash of knowledge rush through them both. 

That mind shattering understanding, knowing with every fibre of their being, that their love will forever be unmatched in all of time. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks!   
> That was the last one... weeeell, when I say last one.   
> It can be the last one if you decide to stop here.   
> There is one more which will hopefully be posted in the next few days.   
> Thing is, that one will be sad. 
> 
> Anyhow, if you want to continue, READ THE TAGS!!!   
> I'll be yelling them out, warn like an idiot so if you continue do NOT come screaming at me - READ THE TAGS!


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